"You'll find your mate on the outside and bring them back to us,"she'd said.
That drive had been stronger than ever since Saturday night. Now, I felt as if invisible strings tugged me back toward the courthouse. The shot of whiskey didn't take the edge off, even when I chased it with a beer.
Haskins got the call an hour and a half later. "Verdict's in."
Shannon was a little unstable on her four-inch heels. I steadied her with an arm around her shoulder until we returned to our seats. Then, we waited in silence for the jury.
The stenographer and sketch artist were already seated at their table. For once, the artist's pencil remained down. He'd slicked his hair back during the break, too. I missed the sheer bouncy volume, but it was easier to focus on his smoky blue eyes, slightly upturned nose, and plump lips.
I was staring. Taking my seat, I scanned the room for something, anything, to hold my attention until I felt his gaze on me. Then, I glanced up and grinned.
His eyes widened, and he looked down at his sketchpad. A deep blush spread across his high cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. I followed his gaze down to the tabletop, where his crossed arms rested, his sleeves shoved halfway to his elbows.
The tattoo on his left arm was definitely a meerkat. Its belly markings looked a lot like mine when I shifted. It sounded ridiculous, but what shifter hadn't stood before a full-length mirror to catch a glimpse of their other self?
There it was again, the pull of longing in my chest. Thankfully, before I hopped out of my seat to go talk to him, the jury returned, and he lifted his pencil to begin again.
It was over in an instant. After the pomp and circumstance of the verdict reading, my mind reeled. They'd decided for us, the defendants. Even with our flawless testimony, I'd expected them to rule for the landowners.
"Looks like we'll be building that geothermal plant within our timeline." Shannon patted me on the back. "Good work, Mears."
"I can't take all the credit."
"No, but your testimony called upon the jury to find their sense of the greater good." Haskins grinned. "Without you, closing arguments would have been much harder."
I shrugged off their praise and motioned for the rest of our team to lead the way out. At the door, the insistent invisible string pulled tight, tugging me back into the room. With most of the bystanders outside, each step echoed on my way to the sketch artist's table.
He was still seated. The stenographer gave him a curt, "See you tomorrow," and dashed to the exit the bailiff and judge had used.
"Good to see you again," I said, offering my most disarming smile.
From this distance, his blue eyes sparkled, the light catching on the lighter streaks of bluish-gray. "I didn't catch your name this weekend."
Thank the gods, he remembered me. It would have been super awkward if he hadn't.
"It's Mika Mears." I'd stated it for the court less than two hours ago, but who knew if he heard it. He'd been so intent on his sketches.
"Mika Mears," he repeated.
Our last name was a little on the nose, but our ancestors had moved to the United States without knowing what a surname was or why we needed one. We were lucky they didn't tack "cat" onto the end.
"I'm Gabe Edwards," he said, extending his right hand to me. Too bad the tattoo was on his left arm. I wanted to examine it, to see if the strings pulling me ever closer to Gabe were visible or only in my imagination.
When we touched, an electric current ran up my arm. I'd never felt anything like it.
"Come have a drink with me," I blurted before my common sense could kick in. Maybe I'd had more to drink than I thought. I didn't ask strange men to bars, not even the cute ones.
"Me? Why?" The instant blush across his pale cheeks sent me into protective mode, even if I was the one who had embarrassed him.
"I want to know more about you." I was still holding his hand. I loosened my grip, not wanting to let him go. "So, um, how do you know Bruce?" Not my best opening question. I wished Haskins had prepped me for this conversation, too.
3
GABE
Mika had asked me a question,but his loose grip on my hand was still sending tingling shock waves up my arm. That was weird, right?
He'd asked how I knew Bruce, and he was still waiting for an answer. "He's marrying my best friend, Becca," I said. "You?"
