Friction

by Sawyer Bennett

  I have her promise. She won't hold my job against me.

  I have her promise.

  I hope she keeps it.

  CHAPTER 17

  LEARY

  "Are you going to tell me where you're taking me?" Reeve asks me, for what I think--by last count--is the fourth time.

  "No," I tell him, giving him a side glance as he sits in the passenger seat of my car. "Let it be enough that there's something important I want to show you, and you'll have to cool your heels until we get there."

  It's been four days since Reeve and I made up.

  Four days since I promised him that I wouldn't hold his job against him. That I knew and accepted that anything he did in this case was not designed to hurt me personally.

  I made that promise willingly and with utter truth in my heart. I'm not willing to let this case stand in my way of being with this man. As a rational woman, I have to accept that Reeve is who he is. He's my opponent on this case, and we can't change that. He's going to fight me tooth and nail when we get in that courtroom, and I'm going to fight him back just as hard. That's the way our legal system works.

  What I did with my promise is assure him that no matter how much blood we draw in the courtroom, I am not going to let it change my feelings about him.

  And there are indeed feelings involved.

  Deep feelings.

  I realized it the minute Reeve walked away from me after the mediation. The finality of his words and his tone of voice immediately made me see that I was getting ready to lose something very good in my life. Now that I have him back, I'm going to try harder than ever to continue to cement this bond we've established.

  And that's why on this Saturday morning, I insisted he get up, get dressed, and we go for a drive. I told him there was something I wanted to show him.

  It's time for me to share more of who I am. It's time for me to pull the door open wider and let him all the way in.

  "Duplin County?" Reeve says as we pass a welcome sign on Interstate 40.

  "Yup. Where was I born and raised," I clarify.

  Reeve's head turns toward me quickly, and I shoot him a quick look. His eyes are round and surprised. "You're not taking me home to meet your mom, are you?" he asks seriously. "Because we really need to stop and let me get some flowers or something."

  I laugh and reach over to pat his knee. "Um . . . no. I'd give you a better heads-up if that were the case. And besides, my mom now lives on the coast, just below Wilmington. I bought her a small house down there about two years ago."

  "Why the coast?" he asks with interest.

  "She's always loved the ocean. And just . . . you know . . . for everything she did for me growing up. All her sacrifices. I wanted her to be at peace somewhere she loved."

  Reaching over, Reeve takes my hand off the steering wheel and brings it to his mouth, where he kisses my fingertips. "You've got a beautiful soul, Leary. I can't imagine how proud your mother must be of you."

  I smile and blink back the small prick of tears in my eyes over Reeve's lovely words. The validation he gives me is a comfort, because I haven't always been so giving to my family.

  "So, if we're not going to see your mom, what are we doing?"

  "Patience, my extremely hot and sexy man."

  "Hot and sexy?" he asks with interest. "Like . . . would it be hot and sexy if I put my hand between your legs and got you off while we were driving?"

  I take my eyes off the road briefly to shoot him a sharp look, just to see if he's kidding.

  And holy hell . . . he's not. His eyes are dark and licentious as he looks back at me.

  "Hands to yourself," I croak. "I'll wreck the car for sure."

  He chuckles and turns his head back to watch the scenery go by.

  We pull off the interstate a few miles down and head into my hometown of Kenansville. I show him the town square, point out the old redbrick hospital where I was born. As we pass through town, I point down a side street and say, "If you go that way about two miles, the trailer park I grew up in is down there."

  "Want to go by there?" he asks softly.

  "Nah," I tell him with a tiny smile. "I don't need that trip down memory lane."

  We hit the outskirts of town, follow Highway 24 for a few miles toward Jacksonville, and then I put on my blinker to make a right-hand turn. Reeve looks out the passenger window, and I can see him sit up straighter in his seat in surprise.

  I pull into Shadow Glen Cemetery and follow the main road. It winds around rolling hills studded with grave markers and pine-tree clusters. When I reach the correct spot, I stop the car, put it in park, and turn off the ignition.

  Without looking at Reeve, I get out of my car and I hear him doing the same. It's relatively comfortable outside for November, and the small sweater I put on over my blouse is enough to keep me warm.

  Reeve meets me at the front of my car, and I hold my hand out to him. He takes it, wrapping his large hand around mine protectively, and I turn to lead him up a small grassy knoll.

  I weave my way past three rows of graves and come to stop in front of a large headstone of a deep, dark gray, which has a matching stone bench sitting alongside the grave. I point at the headstone and say simply, "My sister . . . Lauren."

  Reeve is silent as he reads the words carved into the monument. I didn't spare any expense.

  LAUREN RENEE MICHAELS

  SLEEP WELL, OUR DAUGHTER AND SISTER.

  TAKE THY REST FOR GOD CALLED THEE HOME

  SO YOUR PAIN AND OURS IS NO MORE.

  1990-2011

  "She had just turned twenty-one before she died," I murmur, then bend to pluck a few weeds at the base of the granite stone, tossing them to the side.

  "What happened?" Reeve asks softly.

  I stand back up, feeling my knees pop, and turn to face him. "A drug overdose. Heroin."

  He brings a hand up to stroke my cheek. "I'm sorry."

  Leaning into him, closing my eyes, I say, "Me, too. She was a good person, a kind woman. She just had demons that she couldn't conquer."

  Stepping back, I take Reeve's hand and pull him over to the stone bench. I bought this last year so Mom, Jenna, and I could have a place to sit when we came to visit Lauren.

  After we sit down, Reeve's arm comes around my shoulder, and he pulls me in close. I lay my head on his shoulder and stare at Lauren's grave.

  "You asked me a few times why Jenna's case is so important to me."

  "Yeah," he says in a soft voice.

  "She was Lauren's best friend. They grew up together, were inseparable, really. Lauren and Jenna partied hard, ran with a bad crowd, barely graduated from high school. They both moved to Raleigh when they turned eighteen."

  "You would have been, what . . . twenty-three?" he asks.

  "Yeah, just finishing up my last year at Stanford. Honestly, I was so busy with law school, I really didn't pay too much attention to what was going on with Lauren. The five-year age difference ensured we weren't overly close growing up. Mom kept me up-to-date on her. I knew she was partying. She was dancing to make a living, same as Jenna. Living a pretty hard life. But honestly, it was so far removed from me and where I was, I didn't care too much about it."

  "Nothing you could have done anyway," Reeve says softly.

  "Probably not. At least not while I was living out in California," I agree. "But within a year, I was back in Raleigh. Jenna got pregnant with Damien and she cleaned up her act. Stopped the drugs and partying. Lived with Damien's father for a bit, so he supported her. She and Lauren drifted apart a bit during that time, and Lauren got worse. Started using hard-core drugs. She would come to me often asking for money. I'd refuse to give it to her. Refused to reinforce her drug habit."

  "That's exactly what you should have done."

  "I know. But maybe I could have done more. I tried to talk her into rehab, but did I really try hard enough? Should I have been more proactive? I was just starting out at Knight & Payne, and I was so consumed with my new career that
I just didn't give her a lot of thought and effort."

  Reeve stays silent but his arm tightens around me.

  "Eventually, Jenna left Damien's father and she and Lauren started to get close again. They lived together, both of them continuing to dance. Jenna stayed clean, though, and Lauren, well, she continued to party. Jenna spent a lot of time cleaning up Lauren's messes. Bailed her out of jail more than once. Got her to go to rehab once, but she relapsed a few weeks after she got out. Cleaned vomit off her after a hard night of partying."

  "Jenna's quite a woman," Reeve says.

  "I feel an obligation to her," I clarify. "She did things for Lauren, cared for her in ways that I never did. And in ways that my mom couldn't. She tried hard to get Lauren straightened out, but it was all in vain. She loved Lauren like a sister. Was closer to her than I ever could have been. And I watch as Jenna struggles to take care of Damien, and it reminds me so much of my mom and her sacrifices. So, yes, that's why this case is so important to me. Jenna deserves someone to take care of her now. It's my way of maybe paying her back for being so selfless in caring for my own flesh and blood. She never gave up on Lauren, when I think maybe I did."

  Reeve's shoulders heave with a huge sigh. He tilts his head and kisses me on top of my head. "I get it now."

  Pulling out of his embrace, I turn to face him and step forward, pushing my way in between his knees. My hands go to his broad shoulders, and his come to my waist. He tilts his face up to me, and the first thing I do is ply him with a chastely sweet kiss.

  His lips are velvety soft, his breath warm against mine.

  Leaning back, I say, "I will never have another case in my career as important as this one. I've put more effort into this case than any other, the stakes for me are higher than any other, and yet it's all out of my control. I know that I could lose it all. I accept that. I can only do my best. And I know, without a doubt, that you will do a good job defending the case. I know it's your job and that you're doing it out of duty to your employer and to our legal code of ethics. I'm at peace with that. I just wanted you to know everything about me before we go further. I wanted you to understand why I flipped out on you before, but also to reiterate my promise to you again that I won't take your involvement personally."

  I can't gauge the look on Reeve's face as he listens to me tell him this. His eyes are almost blank, his facial muscles lax. He just stares at me, and for the briefest of moments, I think I might see a tinge of regret.

  Maybe regret over what I've been through?

  Or perhaps it's guilt.

  Guilt for his role in opposing his lover on a case that's embedded in her heart?

  I'm not sure, but before I can explore it, Reeve pulls me closer and presses his face into the center of my chest. He huffs out a deep, hot breath that seeps through my clothing and warms my skin. His arms band around me tight. He wraps me into an all-consuming hug, turning his cheek to rest right over my heart. My hands slip into his hair, and I hold his head against me tighter.

  We stay like that for several minutes. A comforting hug of understanding and appreciation. My conscience is now clear. I'm not holding anything back from Reeve.

  I'm all-in with him, and once this case is over, there will be absolutely nothing standing in our way.

  I slip out of Reeve's embrace at first light and leave him peacefully sleeping in his bed. I'm the early riser, and since it's Sunday, I feel the urge to make him breakfast.

  This says a lot, since I'm not the best cook, but I can manage bacon and scrambled eggs.

  I first make a pot of coffee, pour a cup, and grab my phone. There's something I've been wanting to do since taking Reeve to Lauren's grave yesterday, and I haven't had the opportunity to do it. Now that he's asleep and I have a tiny bit of privacy, I turn my phone on and dial Jenna.

  Because she's an early riser like me, I have no qualms about calling at this hour. She answers in a cheery voice, "Hey, Leary. Please don't tell me you're already working on a Sunday morning."

  "No work today," I assure her with a laugh. "I was just checking in to see how you're doing."

  "You mean am I pissed about the mediation and that they didn't offer anything?" she teases.

  "Well, are you? Pissed?" I venture tentatively.

  "No, babe. I told you I'm not expecting a damn thing from this case. Anything you can get for me is something I didn't have yesterday. If you don't get me anything, I'm the same as I am today."

  A gust of breath pops out of me as I sigh into the phone. "Why can't I be as calm and centered as you are?"

  "Trust me," she says with a tinkling laugh. "Have a kid with autism. You learn how to be centered very quickly."

  I smile to myself, because Jenna has indeed mastered that.

  "Actually," I tell her as I take a seat at Reeve's kitchen table, "I'm calling you about something else."

  "Shoot," she says simply. "Damien's watching TV, so I have a bit of quiet time."

  Toying with the handle on my coffee cup, I shoot a quick glance down the hallway that leads back to Reeve's bedroom. His door is still shut tight, and I'm all alone.

  "I went to visit Lauren yesterday," I tell her softly by way of starting out not at the beginning but sort of near the end.

  "Oh, you did?" she asks with a hint of disappointment. "I would have gone with you."

  "It was spur-of-the-moment," I assure her, my mind drifting back to the memory of Reeve hugging me graveside. "Something I had to do."

  "Hey," she asks softly, "are you okay? You sound a little funny."

  Clearing my throat, I assure her, "Yeah, I'm fine. Actually . . . really good, in fact."

  "Oh my God," she gushes into the phone. "You met someone."

  I laugh, because ever since Lauren died, and especially since I started representing Jenna, we've become pretty close. She's always lamenting that I don't have a boyfriend.

  "Yes," I tell her softly, cutting my glance back down at Reeve's bedroom door. I want nothing more than to just crawl back in bed, snuggle into his warmth. "I met someone."

  "Tell me everything," she says in a whisper, I know, for Damien's benefit. "And don't hold back a single sexy detail."

  Giggling, I push my hair behind my ear and raise my feet to plant on the bottom of the kitchen chair. Wrapping one arm around my knees, I go ahead and come clean. "Jenna . . . the thing is . . . um . . . I'm actually kind of involved with Reeve Holloway."

  She's silent . . . not even a tiny breath. Then she says, "Holy fucking shit."

  "I know this is unconventional--"

  "Holy. Fucking. Shit," she repeats breathlessly. "That guy is H-O-T. I mean, really freakin' hot. Jesus . . . how long has this been going on? Before my deposition?"

  "Um . . . yeah . . . not long after that first motion to dismiss I had to argue," I say hesitantly. "And the thing is, Jenna--"

  "Oh my God . . . this is fantastic. You're a tough nut to crack, but he definitely looks like the type of guy that could totally crack you," she says with a mercurial laugh.

  "But Jenna, the thing you have to consider is--"

  "Is he good in bed? Please tell me he's good in bed. It's been so long that I can't remember what good in bed feels like," she chatters away at me.

  "Jenna!" I exclaim.

  "What?"

  "You need to listen to me for a minute," I say with exasperation.

  "Jeez. I'm listening," she snaps.

  "What I'm doing . . . being involved with the opposing counsel in your case . . . it has certain ethical implications," I begin, choosing my words carefully so she has no misunderstanding over what I'm saying.

  "Have you shared any info on our case with him?" she asks quickly.

  "No, but--"

  "Are you going to throw my case because you don't want it to impact your relationship?"

  "Of course not," I say adamantly.

  "Is anything about your relationship going to negatively harm my case?"

  "No," I say quietly. "I swear to you we do not
discuss the case outside the normal bounds of professional communication. But I had to let you know what was going on. You are more important right now, and if you want me to break it off with him until after the trial, I will do it in a heartbeat. Reeve would understand, too."

  "Oh, sweet girl," Jenna says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. "I trust you implicitly. I'm not worried about it, and I know if you think it's a problem, you'll do what's right."

  "Are you sure?" I ask, chewing on my bottom lip.

  "Positive," she validates.

  I breathe out a swift gust of air, and with it my anxiety, and I close my eyes in thanks. I would break things off with Reeve--temporarily, of course--if Jenna was uncomfortable with this. But I'm immensely happy that she trusts me to do what's right.

  That means I can still have my cake and eat it, too.

  CHAPTER 18

  REEVE

  I step off the elevator onto the twenty-first floor and turn left toward the civil superior courtrooms and the judges' chambers that are ensconced in the hallway behind said courtrooms. Leary and I are supposed to meet with Judge Henry this afternoon for our pretrial conference to go over our final list of issues for the jury to decide as well as the witnesses and exhibits. The judge will also try to lean on us to settle the case, but good luck with that. Tom Collier is barely speaking to me, but there's one thing he relayed loud and clear.

  There will be no settlement offers made to Jenna LaPietra.

  Not ever.

  I take a quick peek through the glass cutouts of the wooden doors to courtroom 21C and see that Judge Henry is still on the bench, listening as an attorney stands at counsel table and makes his argument. Judge Henry's secretary sent word over to my office--as well as Leary's, I assume--that he got called in to an emergency restraining-order hearing and would be running about fifteen minutes late to our pretrial conference. I still show up on time, mainly hoping Leary would, too, and I could just hang with her for a little bit. She left my house seven hours ago and will be back at my house tonight, yet I still want to take as much opportunity as possible to be near her.

  During the trial I'm going to destroy Jenna's case and Leary in the process. It's a thought that keeps me awake at night, makes me snap at the tiniest of provocations at work, and makes me desperate to steal every precious moment with Leary that I can.