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“You’ve known her a while?” I ask.

Lynette’s been Kellan’s assistant since the company started. There aren’t many people she doesn’t know in the industry. She’s a good person to befriend; I just need to bypass all the advice she tries to give me about every aspect of my life.

“Oh, don’t go there,” she warns. “She’s a cute little thing. But you’ll be bailing out your boat before you set sail.”

And she uses analogies that I have no idea what to make of most of the time.

“Not what I meant,” I assure her. I’m not going anywhere with anyone. I pick up my coffee and water bottle. “I’m heading back into the conference room.”

Sadie! Wait up,” Bobby calls to me as I’m stepping onto the sidewalk in front of the courthouse.

I really want to keep walking. I don’t have small talk and fake laughs in me today. I barely slept last night, and I’ve been staring at my phone all day in hopes Jonathan will send another text. But I stop and plaster on my award-winning smile. Honestly, it should’ve won me some sort of award by now; I’ve been perfecting it for nearly twenty years. I don’t count the first three years of my life; I didn’t know any better and just smiled when they told me to. I guess that’s still the same, but when I was a toddler, at least I got candy for behaving.

“Hi, Bobby. What’s going on?” It’s an effort to keep my tone light and airy. Especially with the tears tightening the back of my throat. I’ve already escaped to the bathroom twice today to let them loose.

Bobby’s nearly out of breath from racing down the million stone steps descending from the courthouse. “Um, hi. I, uh, was just seeing if you had plans tonight? We’re headed over to the pub, and I wanted to invite you.”

The only positive thing that he said was “we,” so I know this isn’t intended to be a date. But the last thing I want to do is socialize right now.

My phone vibrates, drawing my attention instantly. It’s Collin, wondering where I am.

“I don’t really drink. And I’m driving home tonight for the holidays,” I tell him. Which is the truth. I don’t have the brainpower to lie after the day I’ve had. “But thank you.”

“Another time then? Maybe we could…” He looks uncomfortable. I feel uncomfortable. I’ve been dreading this. And not because Bobby is horrible. He’s actually very nice and extremely intelligent. He’s the best lawyer when working with young victims. He has a heart, and it shows in his work. But I don’t think— “… get dinner? Just you and me?”

I press my lips together to prepare for the letdown. But instead, I relent. The emotional exhaustion, as well as the physical, breaking down my barriers. “Maybe. Ask me after the holidays. It’s just a really busy time right now.” And I’ll be back to myself by then with all the excuses and kind remarks that evade me today.

He smiles. His green eyes twinkle. “Yeah, great. Next year then.”

Jonathan,” Rachel calls to me before I can follow everyone out of the conference room. I hesitate before turning around, not sure I have the ability to carry a conversation. The meeting depleted me, and that was just providing information that I already know. “Thank you for earlier.” She points to her forehead. “I probably would’ve walked around with it on my head all day.”

“Someone would’ve said something.” I shrug dismissively. She keeps talking before I can walk away.

“You’d be surprised,” she says, filling a file box with folders and manuals. “I walked around for nearly an entire day with my skirt half-tucked into my nylons. And the only reason I discovered it was because I needed to pee after our morning meeting. So embarrassing.”

I cringe in secondhand embarrassment. “I’m sorry that happened.”

She smiles and waves me off. “You’re sweet. I give them something to laugh at. I don’t mind. I’m used to making a fool of myself by now. I’ve had—” She stops abruptly. “Many years of experience.”

“You don’t want to tell me your age?” I ask, completely unfiltered. But I have to admit, I’m curious why she chose to edit her age out of the conversation. The woman just used the word “pee” in a sentence. She openly self-deprecates. Why would her age make her uncomfortable?

Her cheeks flash with color. It’s not a slow rise of color like Sadie. It appears, then melts away just as quickly.

I catch myself. “Sorry. That was rude of me. My moth—I was taught better than that.” Why do I continue to torture myself? I need today to be over. I’ve let thoughts in that I’ve blocked off for a long time. My guard is down, and I feel too exposed.

She hefts the file box up and shakes her head dismissively again. She seems to do that a lot. Brush the uncomfortable away instead of acknowledging it. I’ve noticed it on occasion during our meetings when she provides incorrect information and then laughs at herself when she catches her mistake.

“I just have a feeling I’m older than you. And… well, I thought it might keep you from meeting up sometime… for a drink. Totally casual, I promise.”

I’ve had a feeling for a while now that this might happen. I’m good at reading people. It’s something I learned when I was young and is second nature now. Consider it a survival skill.

Rachel’s funny and beautiful. And I don’t think she’s that much older than me, at least not based on her looks—which is presumptuous, I know—and definitely not based on how she acts. Doesn’t matter because I can’t get involved with her. No matter how much older she is.

“Casual? Just for drinks?” she tosses out.

I lift a shoulder. “Maybe. Just not right now. This time of year—”

“Don’t like the holidays?” Her eyes are brighter. Shit. I don’t want to lead her on. I just don’t have the energy to put up my usual defenses.