by Mia Carson
Her eyes shot open and she jumped to her feet. The chair slid back so hard it hit the wall. “Harry? You’ve got to be shitting me,” she snapped when she saw the tall man with perfect black hair and a three-piece suit standing in the doorway.
His lips thinned and he adjusted his tie. “You could say thank you.”
“For what, exactly?” She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him intently.
“For bailing you out and agreeing to represent you in this case.”
She laughed bitterly, her lips curling into a leer. “Seriously? And why the hell would you do anything nice for me?”
He cleared his throat again, his neck getting redder the longer he stood there. “I’ve decided to do someone I know a favor. And this is my pro bono case for the year, so don’t worry, I won’t expect you to pay me.”
“Good, because I wasn’t going to anyway.”
They stared each other down, and Anna waited for him to decide to turn around and leave. However, he walked into the room, closed the door, and sat down at the table. “Mind?”
“No, of course not,” she muttered and flipped the chair around so she could lean on the back as she watched him meticulously pull out a pen, a notepad, and a file filled with papers.
His gaze remained down and his jaw clenched so tight she wondered how he hadn’t cracked his teeth yet. Over the long months since she’d seen Harold, he hadn’t changed at all. His mannerisms were exactly the same, and that stern face he wore when he was getting ready to work was the same as she remembered. She used to poke fun at it, telling him he needed to lighten up and learn to have fun in his life if he had to be so serious at his job. He scoffed at her countless times that she had too much fun in her life and being serious about something now and again would do her good. Yeah, some good it did her. She took her situation with Johnny very seriously, thinking she was saving his ass, and now hers was in a sling.
He spread out the papers in the file, and she spied the police report. “Now, I want you to start from the beginning of the incident and tell me everything that happened.”
“Sure, Harry, whatever you say.”
His fingers gripped his pen so hard she was amazed it didn’t break. “Harold, if you please.”
She grinned. “Well, Harold…wait, I’m sorry, are you really going to do this?”
“Do what? I need to know your side of the story so I can start building my case to defend you and keep you out of jail,” he explained as if he was speaking to another one of his clients.
But Anna was far from just a client. Her brow arched as she shifted her jaw in annoyance. “No ‘hi Anna, how have you been?’ No, ‘how’s the bar treating you?’ Nothing? You don’t even care, do you?” she accused sharply.
She clutched the top of the chair, holding back the raw emotions flaring to life at the sight of this man who she would have sworn for a few moments was the one she wanted to be with for the rest of her life. He had proved her wrong and she’d walked away, never expecting to see him again. A voice in the back of her mind wanted to fix her hair and cover up the crappy clothes she wore, but they were all she had. She didn’t even have her leather jacket to cover up the tattoos on her arms he looked at so disapprovingly. Suddenly, she couldn’t stand to look at him and glanced away, desperate to be out of this room and away from a man who had broken her heart and, as far as she could tell, didn’t even realize it. Or worse, didn’t care. He hadn’t responded to her words yet, and she held her breath, waiting for him to call her out for being a fool. The old pain welled up, and she swallowed it, forcing herself to give him nothing of her this time.
He folded his hands on his notepad and breathed out heavily through his nose. “If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t be here, now would I?” he told her as if lecturing a child. “Now, can we please get through what happened that night?”
He lied. The tic in his jaw started up as it always had when he lied to her.
“Whatever you say, Harry.” She watched his shoulders stiffen. Good, you should be uncomfortable. You should hate being here with me right now and lying to my face. “What do you want to know?”
“Tell me what happened that night,” he said, holding his pen at the ready.
“That night or before that night?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean this shit with Johnny started a few weeks ago—well, maybe further back than that,” she mused. Grinning, she picked at the peeling edge of the plastic table. “It probably started the night I slept with him.”
Harold cursed and the pen dropped from his hand. “You did what?”
“I had a rough night, had a bit to drink, and Johnny was there,” she said simply as if that explained fully what had run through her mind that night. Really, it didn’t even scratch the surface. She glanced up, expecting to see him looking disgustedly at her, but his eyes shone with jealousy and his nostrils flared in anger. That was not the reaction she expected to see, not after so long of being away from him. “Problem, Harry?”
“Of course not. It’s your life. You may do with it what you will,” he quipped, picking his pen back up and rolling his shoulders.
Anna’s hands curled around the edge of the table. She pictured reaching across and smacking him for saying that to her after all this time. She bit the inside of her cheek and glanced towards the door. Hitting her lawyer wouldn’t look good in the eyes of the detective outside this room. One by one, her fingers unclenched from the table, and she wrapped her arms around the back of the chair to stop herself from doing anything stupid.
“So after this…incident,” Harold said loudly, trying to continue the story, “what happened?”
“Johnny wanted a relationship and I turned him down.”
“How long ago was this?”
“Look, do we have to do this here? You paid my bail, right?”
“Well, yes,” he said, confused.
“Then why don’t we take this back to the bar? I haven’t had a chance to clean up or shower in days and I could use a drink.”
He scowled at her as if she was an insubordinate child. “I think a drink is the last thing you need, but,” he amended when she opened her mouth, “I understand your need to freshen up. I’ll drive you back to The Crawler and you can see to your needs.”
“Thanks, that’s so kind of you,” she muttered. “Was there really no one else willing to take my case?”
“Let me ask you something, Anna. If I hadn’t come along, would you have the money to pay your own bail and hire a lawyer?”
She hung her head, unwilling to meet his gaze and see the arrogant eyes staring back at her, already knowing the answer. “I’ll buy you a drink and you can have dinner at the bar. It won’t even get us close to even, but you never cared about that.”
He picked up all his papers and packed them in his briefcase. “The day is wasting and we have much to get through.” He stood by the door, waiting for her.
Anna swung the chair back around and shoved it under the table. She stalked past him and out the door of the room to the desk where she had to sign herself out and gather the few possessions she had on her when they’d arrested her. There wasn’t much, but when she spotted the necklace in the bag, she cursed, completely forgetting she had it on. She tried to tuck the simple silver chain with the diamond and obsidian skull and key charms on it out of sight. Harold was beside her, his eyes narrowed on the charm. A moment later they widened and he tugged at his tie.
He had given her that necklace a month before she walked away. During that time, she had hoped that maybe he would finally let her in and really give them a chance, but he failed to pull through. She kept the necklace and wore it nearly every day, partially out of habit but mostly because she missed the bastard.
When they reached the front doors of the station, she peered out and cursed to see snow falling from the sky. “Figures.”
“Where’s your coat?”
“I didn’t come in with one. What are you doing?”
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“You’re not walking out there in a tank top,” he grunted and shrugged out of his heavy, wool suit jacket. “Here, slip this on. My car is parked out front. It’ll keep you warm ‘til we get to the car.”
Anna held the coat by the collar. The heavy scent of his woodsy cologne hit her nose, bringing back so many memories of nights curled up in his arms as they snuggled on the couch. Or when he would pull her close as they walked down the street, his arm wrapped securely around her as if to say he would never let go.
But he did let go. No, not even that, he shoved you away.
“I’ll be fine,” she uttered and held it out for him to take.
“Anna, it’s snowing and it’s maybe twenty degrees outside. Put the damn jacket on or we’re not going anywhere.”
“I grew up here. I’ll survive a few minutes.”
He pushed her hand with the coat towards her chest and lowered his tall frame so his face was even with hers. “Put the damn jacket on. You can be stubborn and prideful later when you’re not risking getting pneumonia.”
Grumbling under her breath, she slipped the jacket on and sighed. His eyes slid towards her and she turned the sigh into a cough as the leftover warmth flowed through her body down to her toes curling in her boots. She wrapped the jacket around her and led the way out of the station. He drove the same fancy Camaro, dark green with black stripes. It didn’t match his personality, at least the one he showed the world. Anna nearly broke through that wall of his, but she only managed to catch glimpses of the real Harold buried beneath the pompous, proper exterior. Her dad told her to watch out for two-faced people. She never understood his words until she met Harold. The change was so fast, sometimes she missed it when the man beside her was no longer her Harold but a stranger she almost couldn’t bear to look in the face.
“Are you getting in or what?”
Anna stared down at her hand on the handle of the car door as snowflakes fell in her hair. “Right, sorry.”
She ignored his curious stare as she slipped into the leather seat and slammed the door. He climbed in behind the wheel and took off towards The Crawler. She curled into the fabric of his jacket, turning her face so she could breathe in more of the scent that haunted her dreams. She told herself so many times that if she ever saw Harold again, she would let him have it, tear him apart, and walk away with her head held high.
Instead, she was on the verge of turning into a puddle. She missed him more than she realized until he showed up to save her from being thrown in jail for something she didn’t do. How could she possibly resent him now?
Because he’s not doing it for you and you know it. He said it himself, you’re his pro bono case, his freebie for the year. He’ll get you out of this mess and you’ll never see him again.
Anna watched the snow blow past the car window as he drove, not speaking. The day she left Harold, she refused to speak a word, too. He asked her why, but it hurt her too much for him not to realize what he had done to her. She had turned around and walked out. She could clam up as well as he could about her emotions and her life. He only needed to know about what happened with her and Johnny, nothing more.
***
The bar was as Harold remembered. He sat in the back corner table where Anna planted him and observed the lunch crowd. He recognized a few faces at the bar, some of Anna’s regulars. He pulled the papers out of his briefcase when a shadow fell over the table.
“Harold,” a woman snapped.
He glanced up and smiled charmingly. “Missy, you’re still here, I see.”
She ground her teeth, gripping the small plastic tray hard in her hands. “Drink?”
“What, no pleasantries for an old patron of the bar?”
“Patron? Ha! Don’t make me laugh, I might strain something.” She chewed her gum loudly and tapped her foot on the floor. “Drink, yes or no? I have actual patrons to take care of instead of your rich ass.”
“Beer, if you please. Whatever’s on tap is fine,” he ordered.
“Sure, whatever,” she mumbled and turned away.
“Missy?” he called and she paused. “How has Anna been?”
She was smiling when she turned back around, but it was far from pleasant. She leered at him as she leaned in closer, resting her tray on the table. “You’ve got some nerve, you know that? You let her walk out of your life, didn’t even try to fight for her, and you want to know how she’s been?”
Harold’s mind flashed back to that rainy night, staring in through the bar windows from the sidewalk as his heart seized and his feet refused to move. Watching the violet-headed woman shooting back tequila at the bar and drowning her sorrow over leaving him. Half a year had passed, and no matter how many times he ran through those six months together, he found no reason for her leaving so abruptly.
“Yes, I do,” he finally answered firmly.
Missy gnawed her bottom lip. He expected her to walk away, but her brow wrinkled and she glanced hastily over her shoulder. “She’s been good, I guess, but not the same. Not since you.”
“Does she ever talk about me?”
“Nope, you’re getting nothing else out of me. You want to know what’s been going on in that girl’s head, you talk to her. I’ll get your beer, and you better behave yourself.”
Sitting alone, Harold let the music from the speakers flow around him, taking him back. They had spent so many nights in this very booth. He loved watching her work and interact with her customers, her friends. She was a natural social butterfly, and everyone seemed to love her when she was around. He ran his hand over the booth seat beside him. A ghost of a touch pressed against his lips and his eyes slipped closed, reminiscing the times they spent in this corner booth after closing hours, kissing passionately with the taste of salt and tequila on her lips and bourbon on his. Being with Anna awoke the wild spirit inside of him he had hidden for so long, buried beneath the expectations of his parents. Too many disapproving looks from when he was a kid curtailed who he wanted to truly be, but with Anna, that wall had started to crumble, just enough for him to see the old Harold, the one who wouldn’t mind being called Harry.
He dreamt on the rare occasion about what his life might be like if he’d let her all the way in and gave them that chance. He wondered if that was the reason she left him, and those thoughts always led him back to his annoyance at her disappearing from his life without giving him a damn reason. Anna was very different from the people Harold surrounded himself with, but with time, she would have figured out a way to fit in. He’d told her that countless times, but she refused to change.
“Beer,” Missy announced as she set the glass down. “Anna texted me, said she’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“Thanks.” He sipped the beer and considered switching booths.
Being here was uncomfortable, having so many reminders of the woman he had his longest relationship with. He moved his jacket to the other side, and the faint scent of her wafted under his nose. He shoved the fabric as far away from him as he could and loosened his tie, ready to get this case over and done with. He would defend her because it was his job, but after seeing a side of her anger he had never witnessed in the police station, doubts filtered into his mind that maybe she was capable of beating a man with a bat.
Anna appeared in the doorway to the back stairs he knew led up to her apartment. Her violet hair was damp and pulled back in a loose braid hanging over her shoulder. She wore tight black jeans, her boots, and a sweatshirt hanging low on her right shoulder.
His eyes took in her body, remembering how it felt to have his hands on those curves and cupping that ass as he kissed her deeply. She stomped towards his table, a beer in her hand, and slid into the other side of the booth.
“Sorry,” she told him with an apologetic smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“No problem. I was catching up with Missy and seeing what you’ve done with the place.”
“I’m sure Missy loves seeing you again, and I haven’t done anything to
the place. I never had the heart, you know that,” she mused. “Is it going to be a problem with me living down the hall from the person I supposedly assaulted?”
“Johnny Tory said he was fine with you staying in your place as long as you didn’t come near him, and he isn’t allowed to step foot in your bar. It’s a unique circumstance because he’s the landlord, but at the moment, you’ll be fine. Just do us both a favor and stay clear of him,” he said sternly.
“You say that like I’m gearing up to go after him again, which I didn’t do the first time.”
His gut clenched to see her in such distress over this incident, but he sensed the anger coming off her in palpable waves. Whether it was directed at him or Johnny, Harold was uncertain.
“Are you ready to discuss what happened now?” he asked, trying to stick to the case. He was here to do a job and that was what he would do. Nothing more. This wasn’t about checking up on his ex or seeing how she was doing without him in her life.
“Yeah, let’s do this.”
“Okay. You said you were with him one night. How long ago was that? I want to establish a timeline of your relationship with him.”
She gulped half her beer and licked her lips. Harold’s gaze flickered to the movement, and he inwardly kicked himself for even thinking kissing Anna again was a possibility. “Five months ago…or so.” She drank more of her beer, fidgeting in her seat so the leather squeaked against her legs.
Harold’s pen moved across the page then stopped. “About five months ago.”
“Yeah, something like that.”
The night he saw her drinking at the bar was a week after she left him. He dug through that memory, staring in through the pouring rain running down the windows. Johnny Tory. Had he seen him at the bar that night? Was he the man who had draped his arm around Anna and whispered in her ear as she laughed? His hand clenched and something snapped loudly.
“Harold?” Anna whispered. “Are you alright?”
He scrunched his eyes, shaking his head, and saw the bent pen in his hand. He dropped it to the notepad. “Damn it, no—I mean, yes. Yes, I’m fine.”
