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For Tenielle
The dreamer in me always has and always will need the realist in you.
Safe travels, baby sister.
One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving.
—PAULO COELHO, THE ALCHEMIST
prologue
TRINITY
“ALL RISE. COURT IS now in session, the Honorable Judge Williams presiding.”
Everyone stands as I enter the courtroom and waits for me to be seated before they do the same. It’s a powerful thing to experience, and it’s something I’ve worked my whole life for. Sometimes it amazes me that I did it. That I became the youngest judge in the history of the state to be appointed. As great of an accomplishment as this is, I know that I still have to work harder than everyone else. Because not only am I the youngest judge, but I’m also female, so that puts two extra weights on my shoulders. But I’m determined to prove that I belong here.
This is my first sentencing. I know this case will set the standard for the many to come, and I know that everyone is waiting to see what type of judge I’ll be. I’ve done all the research and taken everything into account, but I don’t want to get it wrong. I’m probably more nervous than the guy I’m sentencing.
His background: from a blue-collar family who seem supportive and stable.
His crime: voluntary manslaughter. He was assaulted at a bar, and after a verbal altercation escalated and became physical, he stabbed the other guy with a knife, killing him.
His previous criminal history: a laundry list of felonies, from drug possession to burglary.
I decide to sentence him to ten years. I could have given him less, since he did not start the argument, but I need to set a precedent. Harsher sentencing means less people will offend, because they know how dire the consequence will be.
And to be honest, as a female judge, I want to be feared.
I slam down the gavel after I deliver his sentence and briefly catch his eye as I stand to go back into chambers.
I can’t decipher what he is thinking, but it jolts me. I didn’t realize how powerful this position would be, yet it’s that look that fuels my fire.
chapter 1
CALLUM
Five Years Later
“DO YOU KNOW HOW much sugar is in that cereal?” I ask my younger brother. It’s not always easy living with a kid who’s seventeen and in high school, especially a kid who isn’t even yours.
“You sound just like Mom,” Justin grumbles, then ducks his head like he always does when Mom is mentioned, the black cap he’s wearing shielding his green eyes from me. Our mother passed away two years ago, a heart attack taking her from us way too soon. Justin has lived with me ever since. And even though Justin and I have different fathers, I’m all he has left now. He never knew his biological father, and while mine is still around, it’s not the same. I’m more than happy to have him here; although sometimes it sucks that I can’t just be the cool big brother.
It is what it is though. And I wouldn’t change a thing.
“I can help you with that English homework when I get home from work tonight.”
He has to write an essay on worldviews and how they shaped his life and opinions. I usually always help when he asks me, which he does particularly in English. I always excelled in school, and I’m great at writing and talking about my opinions; it’s why I became a lawyer.
It’s my first day at my new job, and I’m pretty damn excited. I’m going to miss everyone at Bentley & Channing, the law firm where I interned while in school, but since I recently graduated, I need this next step for my future. Being a law clerk is not only something I’ve always wanted to do, but it can also open doors and set me up for a prestigious career. Besides, being in a courtroom excites me. I don’t know why, but the courtroom is my happy place. I know most people don’t have the same opinion, but ever since I was a little boy, watching all those legal shows on TV, that’s where I wanted to be. I’m fascinated by how the justice system works. I want to be right up in the action, and a clerkship is the first step.
“Thanks,” he replies, pouring milk into his sugary breakfast and giving it a stir. “Do you want me to make us something for dinner?”
“I can grab something on my way home,” I suggest, not wanting him to have to cook after being at school all day, followed by soccer. I want him to be a kid for as long as he can, and I know it sounds stupid, because all teenagers should be helping around the house, but I should be looking after him, not the other way around. He already does the gardening for me, and mows and waters the lawn. He has a green thumb, so I’m thankful he’s here and takes care of all that. He also washes his own clothes and cleans up after himself. That’s plenty. “You have practice, and I won’t be back much later than you.”
“I vote Mexican,” he adds, taking a spoonful and crunching away.
I move around him and put my now-empty mug in the sink. “Mexican it is.” I glance at my watch and grab my keys and wallet off the table. “I better get going.”
I want to be early, it is my first day after all, and I need to make a good impression on Judge Williams. Jaxon and Tristan, my old bosses at Bentley & Channing, warned me that apparently this judge does not fuck around. I stop in front of the mirror, taking in my crisp white shirt and black slacks, and run my finger along the buckle of my black belt.
I look the part.
Now I just need to prove myself to the judge.
A quick run-through of my black hair with my fingers and I’m walking out the front door, only to stop dead in my tracks.
“Justin?” I call out to my brother, tone giving nothing away, as I stare at his black Tucson. Mom’s old car that he now drives. “Did you cheat on a girl?”
“What?” he calls back, sounding confused as he moves to stand next to me. “Oh, fuck . . .”
My thoughts exactly.
There, on the side of his car, someone, assumingly female, has spray-painted the words cheating asshole in silver.
I turn to him, scowling. “Justin—”
“I didn’t do anything,” he immediately says. “Girls are crazy, Callum. How can I cheat on someone if I don’t even have a girlfriend? I haven’t even brought any girls over here in months.”
I open my mouth, then shut it.
Valid point.
I’ll have to deal with this situation another time. There’s something going on here, and I’ll figure it out. Women can be crazy, yes, but they usually have a reason—at least in my experience.
“Don’t need to bring them home to . . . do stuff,” I tease, watching Justin scowl at me. He hates when I talk about sex in front of him. I’m his older brother, and I’ve had plenty of sex. I know he has too. He’s seventeen. I know what I was up to at that age. My brother has a shyness about him that I’m lacking. He’s a very private kid, whereas I’m more loud and obnoxious.
I’m sure nothing Justin has done validates vandalism, but there has to be a reason this has happened. Luckily my best friend, Eddie, owns his own mechanic shop and will be able to fix the paint to cover up the damage. He’s definitely going to get a kick out of this one.
“Do you know who did this?” I probe further, not wanting him to go on the defensive but kind of c
urious. He must know something. He can act innocent all he wants, but he has to have an inkling as to who did this. An ex? A current hookup? A stalker? Shit, give me something.
“I can guess” is his reply, as he crosses his arms over his chest, looking completely unimpressed with the situation before us. “I can’t believe this shit. Who does this? This is what women do when their husbands cheat on them or some shit, not when you’re in high school and not even in a relationship.”
My lip twitches, but I try to hide my amusement. “Maybe this is all some kind of miscommunication.”
Justin makes a scoffing sound, clearly disagreeing with my theory.
“She has pretty nice writing,” I mutter under my breath.
Justin turns to me with narrowed eyes and tight lips. His green eyes, identical in color to my own, flash with anger. “Seriously?”
I shrug and approach the car for a closer inspection, bending forward and then straightening. Knowing that he can’t drive to school in that until I ask Eddie to handle it, I sigh and nod to my car, which is parked a few feet away and thankfully unscathed.
“Come on, I’ll give you a lift to school. You’ll have to catch the bus home though. Or maybe one of your friends can give you a lift.” I pause and snicker to myself. “Probably not whoever did this though.”
“Callum,” Justin whisper-yells, then heads inside to grab his schoolbag.
I open my car door and slide in, waiting for him. His school is about a fifteen-minute drive in the opposite direction of where I’m heading.
And traffic is going to be insane.
Fuck. I’m going to be late for my first day.
chapter 2
TRINITY
I GLANCE DOWN AT MY watch and tap my foot on the floor, the rapid click, click, click filling the empty, silent room. He’s late.
I’m not impressed.
Being a law clerk for a state judge is a prestigious and coveted position. I receive so many applicants each year, and I have my pick on who I want to work with. You’d think that the one lucky enough to be chosen for such a position would actually be on time, especially since I’ve reserved time in my very busy day to walk him through his tasks.
Click, click, click.
I could have been at home, snuggled up with my cat, Florence, and drinking my new obsession—a green smoothie. But instead, I’m sitting here, alone, when I’m not due in court until later this morning. I know I have a reputation around here for being harsh, blunt, and very opinionated—I’ve heard the whispers—but I do what I need to in order to stay respected in such a male-dominated field. I’m the youngest female judge in the state, something I’m very proud of, but that title comes with a lot of people just waiting for me to fail.
A soft knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. “Come in,” I call out, glancing at my watch once more, just to see exactly how late he is. Fifteen minutes. Not too bad, but at the same time he isn’t exactly making the best first impression. I lift my head as he enters.
“Sorry I’m late, Judge Williams,” he says in a deep tone, surprise flashing in his green gaze as he takes me in. I get that all the time. No one ever imagines that I’m as young as I am, especially with my reputation. I pretend I don’t notice and stand as he offers me his hand. He’s tall. Very tall. At least a foot taller than my five-foot-four frame. I have to crane my neck just to look into his eyes. Serves me right for letting my former law clerk handle the interviewing and hiring process. Still, I pretend that his height doesn’t intimidate me. I keep my expression emotionless; I’ve even mastered how to keep my eyes cold.
“Don’t let it happen again, Mr. Hopkins,” I say, arching my brow and gesturing for him to take a seat. He waits until I take mine before he takes his own. Is that an act of chivalry? It shouldn’t annoy me, but it does. In this courtroom and in my chambers, we are not equals, he works for me, and his act of chivalry shows he’s treating me like a woman instead of a judge, and his boss. Or maybe it was a sign of respect, and I’m being completely ridiculous. Why am I overthinking this right now? So what if he’s kind of good-looking? There are plenty of handsome men in the judiciary system; he’s no different. Get your shit together, Trinity. He’s on your turf.
“Please call me Callum, Your Honor,” he returns, clearing his throat and bringing me out of my head.
“Callum,” I say, testing the name on my tongue. “I assume you know you’ll be performing legal research for me, writing briefs, drafting court opinions, and anything else I need to prepare for court. Do not give me your opinion or analysis unless I ask you to. Every judge has his or her own way of doing things, and I have mine. You were hired for this position because you were top of your class in law school, and you also had quite the recommendation from Jaxon Bentley, who was pleased with the work you did at his firm. I don’t respect many attorneys, but if Mr. Bentley vouched for you, then you must not be a complete idiot. You will learn a lot during your time here, and everything moves quickly, so keep up.”
His eyes widen at my comment, but instead of appearing offended or put off, I see a smirk playing on his lips.
A smirk?
What exactly does he find amusing about his fellow peers’ incompetence?
“I’m a fast learner and willing to put in the hard work, Your Honor,” he says, sounding sincere. He has a nice, strong jawline, and I can’t help but notice it as he continues. “And I won’t be late again. I’m usually a very punctual person.” His lip quirks as if something is funny. “I promise.”
He’s nothing like I thought he would be. He almost has a lightness about him, something I’m not sure has a place here. I’m generally a very good judge of character, I believe it’s important in what I do, but I can’t quite put my finger on this one. I can’t tell if he’s going to be an asset or if he’s going to drive me crazy. What I do know is that we’re going to be spending a lot of time together, and I need to trust him and his decisions.
“Good to know,” I tell him, sliding a case file in his direction. “Familiarize yourself with this case. We have two hours until we hear pretrial motions.”
He nods and opens the file straightaway, wasting no time.
I like that.
Maybe this will work out after all.
One Week Later
THIS IS NOT GOING to work out.
Has he done anything wrong?
Not exactly.
But every time he walks up to me to hand me papers, like he just did, I can feel his eyes on me, and it leaves me a little unsettled. And I don’t fucking like it. Over the last week, I’ve learned a few things about him: (1) He can find humor in any situation, (2) nothing intimidates him, not even me, and (3) he was right—he was never late again.
“Thank you, Callum,” I tell him, glancing down at his notes. I can see how he was top of his class—he has an insightful, bright, quick mind, and doesn’t miss a thing. He is also clearly good at research and, if I’m being honest, is perfect for this job. He’s kind to everyone around him, and no one who meets him dislikes him. I have absolutely no reason to feel . . . on edge when he’s around me, yet I do. I don’t know what it is, and because I can’t pinpoint it, it’s driving me insane.
When he doesn’t leave my desk, I glance up at him in question. His eyes are already on me, and there’s something in his gaze that makes me curious. Something about the way he looks at me is different than how everyone else does. It causes a stir in me that I don’t want to deal with at the moment.
“Did you always want to be a judge?” he boldly asks.
See—not intimidated one bit. I can’t remember the last time anyone here has asked me a personal question, probably because it’s never happened. This isn’t exactly the place for personal, and I’m not the type of person to engage in chitchat with my colleagues. I’m here to do my job, not to make friends.
I clear my throat, considering his question. I probably wouldn’t answer it if we weren’t alone, but with just the two of us in the room, it feels safe
to give him a little information about myself. “Yes,” I tell him honestly, although I don’t tell him why. “It was a personal dream of mine. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious,” he murmurs, flashing me a smile I’ve learned is his trademark. “It’s just so impressive, you know? You must be so proud of everything you’ve accomplished.”
“Because I’m female?” I fire back, lifting my chin.
“No,” he replies, shaking his head, lip twitching. “It has nothing to do with the fact you are female, more to do with what you’ve accomplished at such a young age. But now that you mention it, when I googled you it said that you’re the youngest female judge in the state. I don’t even know how you can top that.”
He mutters something under his breath then, and I’m sure he says, “Although it didn’t mention just how beautiful you are.” But I pretend I didn’t hear a word. Surely I’m mistaken—he wouldn’t be so bold. Or would he?
“You googled me?” I repeat in a dry tone, pursing my lips. No one has ever admitted that to my face. I’m not an approachable woman, yet he’s talking to me like we’re two buddies in a bar. I hate to admit it, but I’m a little out of my comfort zone right now.
“Yes, Your Honor, I did. I wanted to know who I’d be working for,” he replies with a straight face. “And it’s kind of my job to research.”
My jaw tightens. “Well, thank you for feeling the need to share that with me,” I deadpan, not knowing what else to say. I’ve never searched myself, but I can only imagine what comes up.
“Since we’ll be working together so closely over the next year, I’m sure I will be sharing a lot more of my thoughts with you,” he continues, not realizing just how thin a line he’s currently walking. “And maybe you can share some things about yourself with me.”
Maybe he’s one of those adrenaline junkies who likes to live life on the edge. Who knows? There’s something else about him that is clear though.
Approaching the Bench Page 1
