Rhea Thurman has always been goal-driven despite the tragedies of her past. Her obsession with criminal law leads her to the most prestigious internship in the city, working under up-and-coming lawyer, Davina Jenkins.
But Rhea never prepared to meet...
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My first thought: Becket will rightfully kill me. There is not doubt about it.
When I give him the news that I'm not staying at the bar anymore, and he asks me where I've gone... I'll be crucified. He won't talk to me for at least a week.
We ride in silence to the bar. It's still too early to open, so Cash isn't here. I'm glad that he won't have to see me packing up all my things, wondering to himself why he employed such a screw up.
Brax follows in after me, despite me mentioning that I only have to grab a few things. He doesn't move past the entryway, turning around to face the door as he flicks the lock closed. He peers out over the closed sign, watching the car park.
I grab my bags, tidy up the sheets and fold the duvet that Cash had lent me. I'll thank him for letting me stay here when I work tomorrow night. When I will also have to face Beckett.
A text chimes on my phone and I reach into my pocket to find a group message from Layla and Maia. They're both checking in to see how I'm doing.
My heart begins to ache as I shoulder my bags and grab my suitcase. I miss them so much. I miss having home cooked meals and our family movie nights. Mostly, I miss getting to talk to them without worrying that I'm putting them in danger.
Brax is back outside now, leaning against the car. When he sees me exiting he opens the drivers side, jumping inside. I shuffle along, my sneakers scratching against the concrete.
Once I'm in the safety of my car and Brax starts the engine, I find myself relaxing. I find myself letting go of the breath I'd been holding.
I expect us to ride back in silence again, but Brax clears his throat. "Nightmares and panic attacks. Anything else fucked up about I should know?"
I frown, watching him in my periphery. "Was that supposed to be a joke? See, I can't tell because your voice is always at the same decibel. That being emotionless."
He grunts, turning out of the car park one handed. "You could have gotten us killed."
I roll my eyes. "I didn't though, did I? I handled it. I didn't let myself freak out in the wardrobe."
"Barely," he grumbles.
I turn to face him, hands entwined in my lap. "Tell me, Braxton, when was the last time you were happy?"
He presses down on the accelerator and we pick up speed. "When my dad died."
I grimace, pinching the bridge of my noise. "I'm being serious."
He waits a beat, a moment of silence passing through the car. He shrugs. "When Casey was born."
"I'm glad you knew what it was like then, once," I deadpan. "But you're telling me you haven't been happy since you were seven?"
