He chuckled, a low sound that she felt deep in her chest, warming places that had felt cold since Saturday night. "Good. I'm glad. The kid deserves a break."
Silence stretched between them then, scratchy and uncomfortable like wool against bare skin. Sandra found herself holding her breath, waiting for him to push.
He was the first to speak, his voice gentle but determined. "We need to talk, Sandra."
The words she'd been dreading were delivered with the kind of quiet intensity that reminded her why she'd been attracted to him in the first place. Terry didn't shy away from difficult conversations or let things fester. It was one of the qualities she admired most about him, and right now it terrified her.
"I know." She paused, leaning against her car in the parking lot, struggling to find words that wouldn't sound like more excuses. "I'm being a coward, Terry. I'm sorry. Friday night surprised me, and I haven't quite dealt with my feelings. And with this case and everything else going on, this really isn't a good time to delve into everything."
Even as she said it, she knew it sounded like she was pushing him away, buying time she didn't really need. But the truth was more complicated than that. She needed space to figure out how to articulate what that night had done to her, how it had shaken her confidence in ways she hadn't expected.
Another sigh drifted through the phone, followed by words that surprised her with their understanding. "Okay, I can respect that. But I don't want you to become mired in negative thoughts until we've had a face-to-face conversation. Please, let me know when we can talk."
Sandra thought of her packed schedule, the mental calendar filled with client meetings, court dates, and home visits thatsuddenly felt suffocating. Her workload at Legal Aid was relentless, but she knew that to Terry it would sound like she was putting him off indefinitely.
“I have an American Legion meeting tomorrow night,” he said with a sigh, “but that’s my only commitment this week.”
"How about Friday? I know that's several days away, but I have three clients in court this week, and an American Legion Auxiliary meeting on Wednesday night. We could meet for lunch?"
The question hung in the air, and she found herself holding her breath again, waiting for his response. Part of her hoped he'd push back and demand to see her sooner. Another part hoped he'd give her the space she was asking for.
"Okay, whatever you need," he said, his voice softer now, more understanding than she deserved. "But promise me you won't get into your head before then."
The phrase made her lips curve into the first genuine smile she'd felt in days. He knew her well enough already to recognize her tendency to overthink, to analyze every angle until she'd talked herself into or out of whatever decision lay before her.
"I promise," she said, though even as the words left her mouth, she wondered if it was a promise she could keep.
After exchanging goodbyes with careful politeness, she hit disconnect and immediately felt the weight of the silence in the parking lot. Leaning against her car, she closed her eyes and let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
Her job at Legal Aid was demanding, and had been easy to fall into, letting it take over her life. She hadn't dated anyone seriously since taking the position, but it wasn’t because she hadn't been asked. She'd received her share of invitations from fellow attorneys, social workers, and even a few of the single fathers she'd met through various community functions.
But the demands of representing clients who couldn't afford private counsel had made her feel like she had to be available constantly, always fighting for someone who had no one else to fight for them. Every case felt urgent, every client deserved her full attention, and somewhere along the way, she'd convinced herself that personal relationships were a luxury she couldn't afford.
Now, standing in the courthouse parking lot with the evening air cooling around her, she wondered if allowing her work to consume every aspect of her life was really the noble sacrifice she'd convinced herself it was. When had she become someone who avoided phone calls from a man who made her feel more like herself than she had in years?
The drive back to her office gave her time to think, to process the victory with the Reeves case and the complicated emotions stirred up by Terry's call. She'd chosen Legal Aid because she wanted to make a difference, but somewhere along the way, she'd forgotten that taking care of others didn't mean neglecting herself entirely.
Pulling into her parking space, Sandra sat for a moment thinking about meeting Terry on Friday.
The thought both terrified and thrilled her in equal measure. She had no idea what he wanted to talk about. Would he want to fight for them to continue or let her know that he didn’t have room for her in his life as a single dad?
As she climbed out of her car, she realized she hated the vulnerability, but no longer wanted to hide.
10
The basement reception hall of Baytown Methodist Church buzzed with soft chatter as folding chairs scraped against linoleum and people milled around the coffee pot in the back of the room. The American Legion's monthly meeting drew a larger crowd than usual, as word spread that Harrison Blackwood would be giving a special presentation.
Terry stood near the back wall with his coffee, watching the familiar faces of men and women who'd become good friends. The American Legion youth baseball program was one of the few things in Baytown that truly brought everyone together, from watermen and accountants, single mothers and retired military, all united by the goal of giving kids a chance to play ball regardless of their family's financial situation.
"Hell of a turnout," Mitch Evans said, appearing at Terry's elbow. The Baytown police chief looked relaxed in his civilian clothes, but Terry noticed how his eyes still swept the room with professional awareness.
"Word travels fast when someone's offering a big donation," Terry replied, taking a sip of the church's notoriously strong coffee.
Sheriff Colt Hudson joined them, his tall frame making him easy to spot even in the crowded room. "Blackwood's already here. Talking to Pastor Williams by the stage."
Terry followed Colt's gaze to where Harrison Blackwood stood near the makeshift podium, with an oversized cardboard check propped against the wall beside him. Even in casual khakis and a polo shirt, Blackwood carried himself with the confident bearing of a successful businessman. His silver hair was perfectly styled, and his smile seemed genuine as he chatted with the pastor, but Terry noticed how Blackwood's attention never fully focused on Williams. His eyes constantly swept the room, cataloging faces, making brief eye contact with various attendees. The man was working the crowd before he'd even taken the stage.
"Pretty generous of him," Ryan Coates commented, joining their informal circle. The Marine Police chief kept his voice low, but Terry caught the subtle note of curiosity. "Fifteen grand isn’t pocket change, although in his business, maybe it is."
