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My feet move almost on their own accord, covering the distance between us in a heartbeat.
Without saying a word, I position myself between Tom and Lauren, facing him down with a glare I reserve for the courtroom. For that moment, lines—professional, personal, or otherwise—don't matter.
All that matters is that I stand here, between them.
I lock eyes with Tom, daring him to make a move. The tension is a palpable force between us, a storm waiting to break. And then it does.
With a yell, Tom lunges at me, aiming a punch at my face. I sidestep it, but he's quick, coming back at me with another swing.
We grapple, both of us expending more effort than I'd care to admit. My adrenaline is pumping, each heartbeat echoing Lauren's name inside my skull.
With a well-placed shove, I manage to push Tom away from both of us.
"Enough!" I bark, breathing heavily. "It's over, Tom. She's not your victim anymore."
Frustration distorts Tom's face into something barely human. With a howl of rage, he turns and punches Lauren's car window. The glass shatters on impact, sending shards flying in all directions.
Lauren yelps in pain as some of the glass shards hit her arm. My heart sinks at the sound, and without wasting a second, I pull out my phone and dial 911.
"Yes, I need to report an assault and property damage," I say tersely, my eyes fixed on Tom, who seems to sense the tightening noose. I tell them where we are and that Tom looks dangerous.
As if on cue, he bolts, disappearing around the corner of the building. I tell 911 not to bother coming because he just ran away like a coward, but I’d still like to fill out a police report later.
And immediately, my focus shifts to Lauren, who's cradling her arm, her face contorted in pain.
"Are you okay?" I ask, my voice laced with concern.
She tries to muster a brave face. "I've been better."
That's when it hits me—her car window is shattered, and her arm is injured. She can't drive.
"Listen, you can't drive with your arm like that, and you shouldn't be alone right now," I say, the words tumbling out before I can overthink them. "Let me drive you to the hospital. You were my last client for the day anyway."
“No hospitals, please. I just want to go home right now.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll take you home if you’re okay with it.”
She hesitates, clearly wrestling with the idea. But after a moment, her eyes meet mine, and she gives a slight nod.
"Alright, thank you."
We walk over to my car, avoiding the shattered remnants of her own window. Once inside, I start the engine, and the silence that envelops us is thick, loaded with unspoken thoughts and unasked questions.
We drive for about ten minutes, the cityscape of Willow Creek passing by us in a quiet blur before I finally break the silence.
"You know, what happened today—what Tom did—it will help your case. It’s more evidence against him."
Lauren looks over at me, her eyes shadowed but grateful. She forces a smile, her lips curving upward in a brave but strained arc.
"Well, at least there's that."
We continue silently, both lost in our thoughts until she speaks to direct me.
"Turn here, and then it's just around the corner," she says, pointing to a narrow street.
When we pull up in front of her house, it's modest but welcoming, a small lawn out front and a warm light emanating from the windows.
She turns to me as I kill the engine.
