The knock on his door was light but firm, and Norm stuck his head in. “You look like a man dying of intellectual malnutrition.”
Colin smirked. “I’m thinking about sitting in with the campus cops and busting a few frat boys just to break the monotony.”
Norm stepped inside and closed the door. “We’ve been easing you back in. Letting you catch your breath.”
“I appreciate it. And I know it’s the right call. But honestly, Norm?” He gestured toward the stack of misdemeanor files. “These cases don’t needme. Not really.”
Colin let out a slow breath. “They matter—I know that. They deserve time and care. But, Norm…” He looked up, brow raised. “This is work one of our interns could handle without breaking a sweat. I’m not learning. I’m not challenged. And I’m starting to feel like I’m going soft around the edges.” He tapped the folder once, then leaned back in his chair. “I need more than this. Something with weight. Something thatstretchesme, makes me grow as an attorney!”
Norm dropped a manila folder onto the desk, the weight of it landing with a quiet thump. “Then let’s test your mettle a little.”
Colin raised an eyebrow and opened the file. Two felony assault charges. Both nasty. Both winnable. His pulse quickened.
Norm sank into the chair across from him, one brow arched as he watched Colin’s eyes light up. “God, I’ve missed that look.”
Colin didn’t answer. He was already reading, but more… he wassavoring. The folder still smelled faintly of printer toner and recycled air, but to Colin, it might as well have been adrenaline in paper form. Two felony assault cases. Unrelated but equally ugly.
The first was a bar brawl gone surgical—one man with a beer bottle, another with a shattered jaw and a fractured orbital socket. Witness statements conflicted, body cam footage was grainy, but there were angles. Threads to pull. A narrative to build.
The second involved a woman who’d stabbed her boyfriend in the shoulder with a kitchen knife. Domestic dispute, but she’d called 911 herself. Said she was defending her child. He claimed she snapped over a text message.
He looked up to see that Norm had tiptoed out of his office without a word.
His eyes moved faster now, flipping through police reports, photos, preliminary interviews. His pen scratched quick notes in the margins—questions, tactics, possibilities. Muscle memory took over, and the buzz hit him low in the gut. Not panic. Not dread.
Focus.
This—this was where he lived. In the layered mess of human failure and motive. In the puzzle of seeking truth and the heat of courtroom performance. His hands stilled over a page, then tapped out a pattern on the file like a drummer finding his rhythm again.
He hadn’t realized how badly he’d missed this. Not the trauma. Not the pain. But the clarity. The sense of purposethatdrovehim.
A slow grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. He leaned back in his chair, one ankle resting on the opposite knee, and let himself feel it without apology.
Eager.Alive.
He reached for a legal pad and began to outline questions for the detectives. Then paused. He pulled out his phone and sent Joshua a text:
Two felonies dropped on my desk. Real ones. Might be a bit late tonight. I’m grinning like a lunatic.
Joshua’s reply came almost instantly:
You’re grinning? Lord god, we’re all in deep shit. Babe… not too late… please?
Colin laughed. A real one this time and texted back:
Never fear. I’ll be home for supper.
He turned back to his desk.Let the games begin.
Colin was still ridingthe high when he strode back into the office—tie loosened, file in hand, grin refusing to die. The arraignment had gone exactly as planned. The defense had postured; he’d parried. The judge hadn’t even bothered to conceal her smirk when she ruled in his favor.
He passed Esther’s office on the way to his own and gave the doorframe a casual knock. “Guess who just tap-danced through a probable cause hearing?”
She didn’t look up from her keyboard. “If you say Gregory from Juvenile, I’ll be impressed.”
Colin chuckled and stepped inside. “Me. Two for two. I could’ve kissed Judge Bontiville.”
“Let’s save that for closing arguments,” she said dryly, finally meeting his eyes. “You may need it.” She looked him up and down. “You look wired.”
