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Built (Saints of Denver #1) Page 23
Author: Jay Crownover

Logically I knew the timing was off and that we both had far more pressing things to handle at the moment, but the old uncertainty I had spent a lifetime fighting against because it had been ruthlessly drilled into me that I wasn’t enough, wasn’t worth time or effort from anyone, needled me no matter how hard I tried to push back against it. Zeb wasn’t ignoring me or dismissing me, but the memory of how it felt when someone you cared about did, pricked at my skin.

“Hey, you doing okay? This is the third night this week you’re at your desk well after the rest of the partners have left for the day.” Carla entered the office and took a seat across from my uncharacteristically cluttered desk. My gaze went to the manila folder she had in her hands and narrowed. Carla was a lovely young woman with a sharp mind, quick wit, and a laser focus on the career path she wanted. It didn’t surprise me she was also working late. I knew that currently she was happy being a paralegal at one of the top family law firms in Colorado, but she made it known that eventually she wanted to be the one sitting behind the big, messy desk pushing case files around. She worked full-time for us and also had a family. I had no idea how she was going to make law school happen, but I admired her drive and her confidence that she could handle it all. I needed a little bit of that can-do attitude for myself.

In Seattle my life had been structured, rigid, and painfully predictable. When I uprooted myself, threw caution to the wind, and came to Colorado, I was operating completely in unfamiliar territory. I was scrambling in pretty much every aspect of my life outside of work, because everything was so unfamiliar. I had a family I didn’t need to beg for affection. I had someone in my life who knew how to love and be loved without games. I had feelings threatening to overwhelm me where a man was concerned, and I had someone relying on me to be strong for them, to help them heal when I was nothing more than an ugly and open wound myself. I never felt like I was doing any of it correctly outside of the courtroom, but I tried.

“I’m just playing catch-up. I’m not sure how I managed to get so far behind on things, but I am.”

She lifted her eyebrows at me and tilted her head to the file I had open in front of me on top of the mess of the other ones. “Could it be the fact that you haven’t looked at anything other than that case file for the last two weeks? Every time I’m in your office it’s open on your desk and you’re staring at it.”

There was no missing the black-and-white mug shot of Zeb or the angry downturn of his mouth in the image. It was well before his face was covered in fuzz and I couldn’t get over how young he looked and how furious he seemed in the image. That wasn’t the Zeb Fuller I knew and dreamed about at night, but it was a version of Zeb that existed and could prove very difficult to deal with when it came to fighting for his kid. The idea that passion could be so wild and dangerous taunted me.

I knew all about the assault charge and the fact he had pled no contest and served his time. The hiccup and the surprise in the mix was the additional charge of endangering the welfare of a child. The police report was vague and so were the notes from the public defender who handled Zeb’s case. But from what I could piece together, Zeb had gone after his sister’s boyfriend and hurt him badly enough to put the guy in the hospital for several weeks. The attack on the other man had happened at the sister’s apartment and well within the view of the sister’s then three-year-old little girl. The arresting officer claimed the child was terrified and crying. He claimed she wouldn’t even look at him or stop screaming when he came to intervene in the situation, thus prompting him to add the endangerment charge. It wasn’t uncommon for the police to level that charge upon physically violent parents who fought each other with no regard to how their actions might end up affecting the mental well-being of their kids. It was slightly more unusual for the charge to fall on a relative of the child, especially one who didn’t share the home with the minor, and in Zeb’s case it was going to make going before a judge decidedly more complicated.

“He’s a friend, so the case is more personal. I’m tied up in it a little more than I probably should be.”

Carla flashed me a knowing grin and leaned forward with the envelope she had in her hand. “He’s a cute friend. I can see wanting things to be very personal with him.” I rolled my eyes at her and reached across the mess in front of me for the envelope in her hand. My heart skipped several beats and then decided to start doing the tango when I saw the name of the lab the state used for all of its testing on the label.

My reaction must have been telling because Carla laughed a little as she climbed to her feet. “I was on my way out but had to drop a divorce amendment in the mail to go out tomorrow and caught the delivery guy just as he was dropping this off at the front desk. I knew you would want it as soon as possible.”

“Oh, thank you.” My fingers curled around the envelope like there was something precious and easily breakable inside. The contents inside of that simple manila covering were life changing. It seemed like they should be wrapped in something much more substantial than paper.

Carla walked across my office toward the door and paused at the threshold.

“Aren’t you going to rip into it? I thought you would be tearing into the results like a wolverine, as distracted and hung up on this case as you’ve been the last few weeks.”

I looked from the envelope to the paralegal and slowly shook my head in the negative. It was common for the attorney representing the questioning party in a paternity case to first look at the results and then figure out the best way to break the news, good or bad, to their client. In this particular case I knew Zeb needed to be the one to break the seal on the envelope. He needed to be the first person to lay eyes on the results to verify if little Hyde was in fact his. I felt it deep down in my guts that taking the results to him and letting him uncover the answer on his own was the right way to go about it.

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Jay Crownover's Novels
» Charged (Saints of Denver #2)
» Built (Saints of Denver #1)
» Leveled (Saints of Denver #0.5)
» Honor (The Breaking Point #1)
» Better When He's Brave (Welcome to the Point #3)
» Better when He's Bold (Welcome to the Point #2)
» Rule (Marked Men #1)
» Asa (Marked Men #6)
» Jet (Marked Men #2)