“I’m not taking the case,” I say, draining the glass and clunking it down on the table for emphasis.
“I can understand you not wanting to help Mick or Victor, but what about this boy?” Lexie inquires.
If it were any other child, I’d jump at the chance to help. Only in this instance, I’d have to face my foster parents, deal with Victor, and endure more encounters with Mick. There would be no way to avoid that.
“It’s a conflict of interest,” I say.
“Maybe if you were appointed by the court to make an impartial recommendation on custody, but not if you were hired as the kid’s lawyer,” Jordyn responds with annoying logic.
“The point’s moot. Even if I were so inclined, which I’m not, Victor doesn’t want me as legal counsel for his foster son,” I remind them, hanging on to that hopeful defense.
“Mick will convince him. From all you’ve told us, they stick together like glue,” Lexie adds.
“Whose side are you both on?”
“Yours. Always,” Jord says in a compassionate tone. “But we know you, Dee. How many times have you told us that you never turn away a kid? That’s why your caseload has doubled in a year. Helping children is what you do. If you decline, no matter the reason, it will gnaw at you.”
I slant a glance toward my perceptive friend. Jordyn’s brash, take-no-prisoners attitude often fools people into concluding she doesn’t have a soft or sensitive side, when the opposite is true. Not only is Jordyn fiercely loyal, but she’s also one of the most nurturing and caring people I know.
“Do you really want to give Mick and Victor that much power over you?” she asks.
Of course I don’t.
But what to do?
Take the case and protect Dwayde’s best interests?
Or stay away from the torturous past and protect my own?
“ISWEAR YOU HAVE A sixth sense for Isabelle’s lasagna.”
My emotions are still boiling, but as I step into the foyer I summon up a grin for Victor and sniff the air appreciatively. Mexican lasagna. It smells like home and family. Both of which the Torreses have been to me for as long as I can remember.
“If that’s an invitation for dinner, I’ll take it,” I say when I clasp Victor’s outstretched hand and lean in for a one-armed hug.
“As if you need an invitation.”
Suddenly attuned to the unusual quiet—no sounds of the active twelve-year-old, barking from the dog, or the blare of Gabi’s music—I ask, “Where is everybody?”
“Isabelle’s in the kitchen,” Victor replies, closing the door behind me. “Dwayde went to the park with friends to shoot hoops and took Rufus with him. And Gabi’s supposedly at the library, studying.”
My eyebrows raise in question. “You doubt that?”
“Damn straight. The only thing Gabi is studying these days is boys.” He shakes his head. “She’s driving me around the bend, man. I should have fought harder for her to stay at home to finish out her last year of high school. But no, Mama and I gave in to her cries about a change of pace, thinking she might get over her grief faster by being away from Springvale. I’d bet my badge she’s off hooking up with some punk-ass dude she doesn’t want me to know about.”
Gabi’s a good kid. After being sheltered in a small town and overprotected by Papa T until his death seven months ago, she’s acting out her loss through a little rebellion. I think about my own secret romance and say, “Maybe Gabi wouldn’t sneak around if you’d ease up and stop intimidating every guy she brings here.”
“Like that’s gonna happen. If they can’t handle an older brother protecting his baby sister, then they’re not worth their salt.”
“Gabi’s not a baby,” I say. “She’s almost eighteen.”
“Yeah, and I know what I was up to at eighteen.”
And I know whatIwas up to. With Dee. And the thirty-five-minute drive from her downtown office to the suburbs in snarling rush hour traffic gave me too much time to recall the intense history we share and the potent feelings attached to it.
For all of Dee’s prickly exterior, beneath it I found an irresistible vulnerability. Out of self-preservation, she played it tough and indifferent, but Dee’s feelings ran deep. Unlike any girl I knew, she looked past the cool jock image I put on for the small town to see. She looked straight into my soul and understood me better than anyone.
“Come on back,” Victor says, saving me from another descent into the past.
