by Davis, L. C.
"No?" I asked warily.
"Given the way this town works, I'm sure by now even you've heard that my romantic past isn't entirely heterosexual."
"Daniel told me you used to date," I admitted. "I just didn't think you were that Dennis."
"And I didn't think you were that Holden." He flashed me a smile even whiter than it had looked in the bar and I found myself judging Past Me a bit less harshly for succumbing to his charms. "I might be tempted to say our meeting was kismet, if I believed in that sort of thing."
"You don't?"
He shrugged and leaned back. "I'm inclined to believe in what I can see and touch."
His words conjured the sensation of his fingers running up the bare skin of my thigh and my breath caught in my throat. Before I could lose whatever dignity I had left, I forced myself to think about decidedly non-romantic images to drench my libido. "I'm still sorry. I hope this doesn't make things awkward."
"You have nothing to be sorry for. I got to spend part of an otherwise terrible day with a beautiful woman who turned out to be an equally beautiful man. There's nothing awkward about it, as far as I'm concerned. I wish you'd stuck around, but I understand why you'd be cautious in a situation like that."
My cheeks grew hot and my heart skipped the way I had previously assumed only happened in cheesy movies. "You're pretty understanding."
"For the town pariah," he said with a knowing smile. "I have something of a reputation. I suppose we were both keeping secrets."
"I don't put much stock in rumors," I said, deciding that was the most diplomatic answer.
"You're one of the few who doesn't, then. In the interest of full disclosure, you might want to start if you're going to make it in this town. Stillwater runs on rumors, and if you don't indulge them, you become them."
I watched him, trying to see something I had missed the other night now that I knew who he was. His energy was the same, clean and crisp, and there was nothing but earnestness in his gaze. That and a hint of sadness. How had I not noticed it before?
"You've been here what, two weeks now?" he asked, his eyes dancing with mischief.
"About that."
"If anyone should apologize, it's probably me. If I'd known you lived here, I never would have approached you."
"Why not?"
"Because the last thing you need is for anyone to make the connection between us. Guilt by association and all that."
"Like I said at the bar, I've already blown my first impression."
"Oh, Daniel will get over it. He's always had a soft spot for big blue eyes."
"How did you --?"
"There aren't many curmudgeons and witches in this town," he said with a chuckle. "Of course, I didn't think you actually meant he'd staged a witch hunt in a literal sense."
"So the rumors about me have made the rounds, too. We're both infamous."
"Yes, but being a new ager and being a murderer are two different things," he said, crossing over to the liquor cart near his desk. "Care for a drink? Gin, seltzer?"
"I'm good, thanks," I said, watching as he poured himself a glass of some amber liquid. I decided if I'd been the object of Stillwater's collective scorn for that many years, I'd probably drink in my office, too. "You're awfully casual about the whole thing."
"I'm afraid gallows humor is my go-to coping mechanism. If everyone in the room is already thinking something..."
"You might as well say it out loud so you're not the only one who's uncomfortable," I sighed.
"Precisely."
"I get it. What I don't get is why you'd stay here after all these years. Wouldn't it be easier just to go somewhere no one knows you?"
"It would, but my parents still live here and I've got my ties, few though they are. I guess there's also a stubborn part of me that feels like leaving would be letting them win, admitting to something that I didn't do," he said, a hint of bitterness leaking into his voice for the first time before he drowned it with another drink. "That and this town has a way of pulling people in and keeping them here. As much as I'd enjoy the presence of a kindred spirit, I feel it's only fair to warn you before you fall into the web yourself."
"I appreciate that, but I think I'm already in it," I admitted. "And I patched things up with Daniel. Mostly."
"If that's true, then you definitely don't want to associate yourself with me," he said with a sad smile. "As I'm sure you know, he and I have a bit of a checkered past, and I'm afraid I haven't given him any reason to be charitable towards me."
I frowned, recalling Daniel's words at the diner. The way Daniel spoke of their current relationship, he made it sound like any feelings left between them were all one-sided, but talking to Dennis now that I knew who he was, I wasn't at all sure that was the case. "You pushed him away on purpose, didn't you? So he wouldn't be 'guilty by association.'"
Dennis chuckled into his half-empty glass. "You're perceptive, Holden. That's another quality that won't serve you well here."
I wasn't quite sure whether the words were meant as a threat or a warning, but decided not to give into the same hysteria that had taken over the rest of the town and take it as the latter. The benevolent smile that graced his lips a moment later was my reward.
"I was a selfish prick back then, but I loved Daniel, and I suppose there's some part of me that always will," he continued. "The thing that separates real love from the fairytales is knowing that it doesn't always end in a happily ever after. Sometimes loving someone means hurting them when you know staying in their life would cause them even more pain."
"I can understand why you'd feel that way when you were both younger, but it's been so long. I haven't known Daniel for very long, but I can tell he's not the type of person to let what anyone else thinks stop him from taking what he wants." I hesitated before deciding that I was already stepping over the line, so I might as well go another foot. "And I think he still cares about you, too."
"Oh, I know he does," he murmured, running a finger along the edge of his pristine desk. "But I'm not the same man he fell in love with, and neither is he. I've made my peace with that and I'm sure he's done the same."
The pain in Daniel's voice whenever he spoke of Dennis made me sure of the exact opposite, but I nodded. His words weren't an invitation for further disagreement. "I'm sorry for meddling," I said with a dry laugh. "Believe it or not, I wasn't looking for you to give you unsolicited relationship advice."
"You were looking for me?"
"Oh. Right," I said, touching the letter in my pocket. "That was before I knew who you were. I just wanted to talk to a lawyer, but I'll call someone else."
"To put it bluntly, the only other attorney in this town is an idiot," he said without lapsing in his pleasant tone. "I doubt you'd have much use for my particular area of expertise, unless you really are a con artist," he teased. "But I'd be happy to make a referral."
I hesitated before deciding that I was already trusting he wouldn't tell anyone I had a thing for dressing up and going out in women's clothes and took out the letter. "I just got this and the legal jargon is throwing me. It's kind of a personal matter, so I don't want to bother you."
"It's not a bother at all," he said, taking the letter. His placid expression turned somber as he scanned down the page and looked back up at me, his eyes full of questions. "This is more my line of work than I thought, but it looks like you're on the other side of the courtroom."
"I was part of a criminal trial a few years ago," I admitted, immediately regretting my decision to show him the letter. He motioned for me to take the chair in front of his desk, so I did. "I'm just not sure the person who sent the letter is who they say they are."
"Well, that's easy enough to ascertain," he said, moving to sit behind his desk. He glanced down at the letter again before typing something into his computer. "Tabitha Ellery, looks like she's with Bernstram & Coffer. I've heard of them," he mused, scrolling down a webpage full of stock images of determined-looking lawyers. "Yes, here she is.
She's a junior associate, but assuming Tabitha is actually the one who sent you the letter, it seems to be legitimate."
"That's what I was afraid of," I said with a sigh.
He watched me for a moment, a thoughtful look in his eyes. "If it's too personal, don't feel pressured to answer, but this wouldn't happen to be related to the Gosham church scandal, would it?"
I stared at him for a moment in shock. "How did you know that?"
"Forgive me, but putting the pieces together is what I do and I'm afraid it's hard to turn it off," he said, sliding the paper back to me. "I try to keep up on the landmark cases. I work with a few high-profile clients myself, and I followed the story pretty closely when it first came out. Given that the plaintiff was a young man who'd be about your age now, plus the fact that the firm that sent the letter is located twenty minutes from Gosham... Then there's your accent."
"Yeah, that's pretty straightforward," I said, wincing. "Dennis, you seem like a man with a good memory and I'm sure you know my real name, but --"
He held up a hand to stop me. "I take confidentiality very seriously, and as for your real name, I'm of the belief that someone's real name is always the one they ask you to call them. Your secrets are safe with me, Holden. All of them."
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and smiled. "Thank you. I'm not doing a very good job of lying low, but I'm just trying to start over."
"I can certainly see why," he murmured, watching me with some unreadable expression. It wasn't pity. I knew pity, if only from the way it made my skin crawl. This was something new and entirely refreshing, given what I had just told him. "For what it's worth, I've come across few people in my career that I didn't feel I could defend to my fullest ethical obligation, but if I'd been asked, that man would have been one of them."
I noticed the way he avoided calling him my father and it was that bizarrely considerate detail that cemented my opinion of the man in front of me. Maybe judging character wasn't one of my gifts, but it didn't take an empath to see that Dennis Mills was the last person in Stillwater who was capable of cold-blooded murder. "Thank you," I repeated, at a loss for any other words that covered the relief and gratitude I was feeling.
"Since you came looking for me, I take it you don't have a lawyer at the moment?"
"No. I kind of lost touch with my settlement lawyers. Honestly, there was a time when I just wanted to be as far from all of it as possible."
"Understandable. Like I said, I can recommend someone if you tell me what it is you're looking for."
"I don't really know myself. I guess I just wanted to get a professional opinion and make sure the letter means what it sounds like it means."
"Well, a request for an appeal hearing can take months," he said, propping his head in his hand. "There's nothing you need to do, but if the firm is reaching out to you at this stage, it's likely they'll want you to testify at the hearing."
I swallowed hard and my chest grew tight. The memory of sitting across from my father the first time was still fresh in my mind and a common theme in my worst nightmares. "I would have to see him again, wouldn't I?"
"I'm afraid so," he said in a sympathetic tone. "It's unpleasant but often necessary to remind the hearing judge of exactly what the victim has suffered and why the accused should remain in prison."
"So if I don't show up, they'll let him out?"
"It would be a possibility either way, but far more likely if you don't attend." He winced. "I'm sorry to be so blunt."
"Don't be. It's nice. When it first came out, everyone treated me like I was made of glass and the euphemisms and pity were almost worse than seeing him. Your directness is...refreshing."
"The feeling is mutual." His smile was gentle, just like his tone. He paused, opening the rolodex on his desk. He filtered through the cards in the file before offering one to me. "Here, this is the name of a contact of mine in Burlington. I've been opposing counsel to her on more than one occasion, and there's no one I'd rather avoid going up against." He seemed to notice my doubt as I took the card and grinned. "That's a good thing. She's very good at her job, and she's wonderful at working with people who have been through traumatic ordeals. Tell her I sent you and I'm sure she'll be happy to help."
"Thank you," I said, tucking the card into my pocket. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. I feel a lot better already."
"There's no reason you should have to deal with something like this alone," he said, leading me over to the door.
"How much do I owe you for the consultation?"
"Nothing. I didn't do much. Besides," he said with a nervous-seeming laugh, running a hand through his hair. "Given the way we met and the fact that I was planning on asking you to dinner, it would hardly be appropriate."
"Dinner?" I paused. "Oh. Dinner."
"Forgive me. I really shouldn't have --"
"Okay."
Now he was the one gawking. "I'm sorry?"
"Okay, I'll have dinner with you," I clarified.
"You...really?"
"You sound surprised," I said, arching an eyebrow. It was kind of endearing to see someone so put-together act so flustered. "Unless dinner is a euphemism for something more than we did the other night..."
"No, I just..." He put a finger over his mouth and watched me, looking like he was warring with himself over something. "It was one thing when we were strangers, but now you know who I am. If you're seen out with me, everyone else will know, too."
"That's generally how a date works, from what I'm told," I teased. "And I know who you are. You're the handsome stranger I met at a bar and made a fool of myself in front of, who was sweet enough to give me a second chance and ask me to dinner. That's what I know. Anything I might have heard before that is what other people know, and I also happen to be the kind of person who believes in what I can see and touch."
A slow grin spread across his face. "In that case, how about tomorrow night? I actually wasn't expecting you to say yes and I forgot I have to turn in a petition tonight down at the Town Hall."
"For the Town Council?"
"The rumor mill strikes again."
"Supposedly there's no such thing as bad publicity. Maybe you can work it to your advantage for the election."
"Now that would be something," he mused. "How about I pick you up at eight? There's a little Italian restaurant not too far out of town and they make a risotto to die for."
"So that's how you did it," I murmured.
The look of horror on his face made me regret my joke immediately. "God, I'm really sorry. That was tasteless."
"Oh. A joke, of course," he said with a laugh. He was still a shade paler than he had been a moment ago. "I'm sorry, I'm really not usually this spastic. I'm just not used to, um..."
"People not being assholes?"
"Yes. That."
"That makes two of us. I'll see you at eight," I said, stepping out into the hall to reach for the crate.
"Where should I pick you up?"
"Oh. Right. You don't know where I live," I realized aloud. That was a point in his favor already. "You know Mrs. Marrin's place?"
"Ah, yes. I'd heard she was renting out Daniel's old apartment. It's on the way. I'll see you then, Holden. I'd say it was nice to see you again, but that would be an understatement."
If those words had come from anyone else, I would have dismissed them as flattery, but there was something genuine in the way Dennis spoke and it made me even more curious. "It's mutual," I echoed.
Thirteen
HOLDEN
No sooner had I left Dennis' office than I caught sight of Nick leaning against a wall across the street. He was looking especially rakish with his hands shoved into a battered leather jacket I could only assume was a fashion choice related to his rebellion against the rich kid stereotype and his hair was slicked back. He caught sight of me and the way he stalked toward me made it clear my emergence was what he'd been waiting for.
Of course. The day had been cha
racterized by not one but two decidedly positive interactions with men who didn't treat me like a child who needed to be coddled and rescued. It was about time someone came along to sour my mood.
"Dennis Mills?" he demanded, his teeth gritted as he reached out, taking my arm. His grasp was gentle but far too possessive for my liking and I shrugged out of it immediately.
"I'm sorry, do you want to rephrase that in the form of an actual question?" I asked without stopping.
He fell into step with me and soon I was the one struggling to keep up. "I thought I told you to stay away from him."
"Hm, I don't remember. Was that before or after you screwed with my head?"
"This is serious, Holden. I get that you're pissed at me and I've done my best to give you space, but this is not the way to get back at me. You have no idea what you're messing with."
That got me to stop, if only because I didn't trust my coordination when I was that pissed off. I spun on him and had half a mind to weaponize Puff's crate. "Excuse me? Get back at you?"
"Why else would you run straight to the one guy in town I warned you to stay away from?"
"Oh, I don't know. Let me count the literally limitless number of reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with you, because you're not the center of my universe," I snapped. He blinked at me, like he wasn't quite sure how to respond. "Not that it's any of your damn business, but I went to his office because I wanted his professional opinion."
"On what?" he asked, switching gears from lecturing to worrying in record time.
I rolled my eyes and muttered something that was admittedly pretty immature, but at least it was under my breath.
He cocked an eyebrow. "Did you just call me buttmunch?"
"So now you're psychic and you have super hearing?"
"Look, can we please just talk about this somewhere else?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.
"Why?" I challenged. "You don't mind spreading gossip, but you're not a fan of being the object of it?"
"It's not that. Christ, are you always this stubborn?"
"Yep."
He seemed unsure of how to respond to that, too, when the wind buffeted us both and he wrinkled his nose, glancing down at the crate. "Since when do you have a cat?"
