Case in point. I hear the shuffling stomping that all the deputies seem to use to walk around. To my surprise, it is Marshal Dawson who appears on the outside of the cell, along with Simon Tracy, my family’s lawyer.
“You all right, Logan?” Simon asks.
I gingerly touch the cut on my lip. Dawson roughed me up when we first arrived at the jail. The cut is the worst, and I can already tell most of the other damage will manifest as plentiful bruises under my clothes.
I don’t want to give Dawson the satisfaction, so I say, “Yes, I’m fine.”
“This is ridiculous, we don’t need to get lawyers involved,” says Dawson, sounding irritated. “If you feel like you’ve cooledyour heels enough in here, you can leave without bail.”
Ah. So unlike Sierra, I have enough power and influence to get a break. Or maybe it’s because I’m male. Another pointless, arbitrary injustice. Either way, it makes me sick.
Simon does not look impressed by this concession, but he allows it.
Dawson unlocks the door and slides it open. I can hear his labored breathing as he cuffs me and leads me away from my cell.
“Why did you do it? Why did you have her make that statement, only to do nothing with it?” I ask. I can’t figure out why he would have eked out such a humiliating statement, then keep it quiet for years. Did he get off on it, or is there more to the story?
“As your lawyer, I advise you to keep quiet, Logan,” Simon says dryly.
I’m not an idiot, so I pipe down.
But I still feel like an idiot.
I didn’t understand how awful it was until it happened to me—how deeply shame could burn through me when everyone was watching the town marshal put me through those sobriety tests. It didn’t matter that I was innocent. I still felt humiliated.
No wonder Sierra wanted to leave. I wasn’t understanding of that at all. I feel cold and hot at once, ashamed of how I told her it didn’t matter what people thought—that she was the one who’d been taken advantage of.
Like that made any difference.
Am I the kind of asshole who only feels empathy when it happens to me? Another bitter pill to swallow.
Dawson leads me to the exit without ceremony. Seth issitting there in the waiting room, his face set in a grim line.
“He’s all yours,” Dawson says. “I hope I don’t see you here again, Logan.”
“Same,” I say.
Seth and I thank Simon. I promise to give him a call during normal business hours to explain everything, and we head out into the dawn light. We don’t speak as we climb into his car, nor when we buckle up and Seth starts the engine. I reach to turn on some music, but Seth blocks my hand.
“Well?” Seth says as he pulls out of the parking lot.
I don’t even know where to begin. I can’t explain what happened with Dawson without getting furious again. What kind of man intimidates someone who has been taken advantage of, someone who has already been kicked down?
But how different am I? Pressuring Sierra at every turn. Controlling, overwhelming her because I want her. She tried to put up boundaries, and I stomped all over them.
I’m too exhausted, both emotionally and physically, to explain the ordeal and all the horrible revelations that resulted.
“Nothing? Not even to say ‘thank you for calling our lawyer and bailing me out of jail’? Real nice, Logan.”
I wince. I don’t mean to be a dick. “Right. Thank you. I really appreciate it, bro.” I clear my throat. “Did Sierra make it home okay?”
Seth sighs. “You see, this is exactly the kind of thing I was worried about. I told you it was a bad idea.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. “You foresaw Marshal Dawson publicly humiliating my girlfriend and then arresting me and throwing me into jail for defending her? I tell you, man, you really should invest in some lottery tickets because your prophetic powers are on point.”
Seth doesn’t say anything for a moment. When he speaks again, his voice is strangely gentle. “Not that. I foresaw Sierra leaving and breaking your heart again.”
My heart jumps to my throat. “She left?”
