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I’m playing with fire here. Idaredhim to try and seduce my wife. What the fuck is wrong with me? I hope Briar turned him down. I hope she humiliated him.
But with every ounce of confidence that courses through me is a hint of doubt. He is good-looking and young and so fucking suave.
I trust Briar, but anyone would have a hard time turning him down.
Halfway through my drive, my phone rings. A feeling of dread washes over me until I see it’s my mother’s name on the caller ID instead of my father’s.
“Hello,” I say with a chipper tone after answering it.
“Hello, baby,” my mother croons through the phone in her sweet Southern drawl.
“Hey, Mom. How’s Abigail? I hope she’s not being too difficult.”
“Oh, not at all,” my mother replies. “She and I were just having a fashion show. Abby designs my outfits?—”
“And Nana has to wear them!” Abby calls from a distance, overhearing our conversation.
My face stretches into a wide smile at the happiness in her voice.
“Sounds like you girls are having fun,” I say.
“We are having so much fun,” my mom replies.
It’s nice to hear her so happy, too. It’s been a tough year for my mother. My father’s scandal, learning he was a regular at a sex club in the city, and then being arrested for attacking her son’s girlfriend, my mother needs all the smiles and laughs she can get.
“Abby would like to know if she can stay another night,” she says.
“Of course,” I reply.
My mother responds with a soft hum of approval. Then it sounds as if she closes herself in a room so I can no longer hear the cartoons playing in the background.
“And how are you doing, baby?” she asks.
My throat grows tight, hearing the concern in my mother’s voice. “I’m fine, Mom,” I lie, hoping it keeps her from worrying.
“Have you heard from your father?” she asks gently.
I can’t lie to her about that. Clearing my throat, I reply, “Yeah. I saw him last week.”
“How are you feeling after that?” she asks.
With a heavy sigh, I say, “He asked me to help him.”
“Of course he did. You’re a damn good lawyer, Caleb.”
“Aren’t you going to ask me what I said?” I reply.
“No. That’s your business,” she says sternly.
“Isn’t it sort of everyone’s business at this point?” A sarcastic laugh slips through my lips.
“No, it’s not.” With that motherly tone in her voice, I swallow my laughter. “I won’t pit my boys against each other. You’re both grown and can make up your own minds. That is between you and Adam, and I won’t get in the middle of it.”
The line gets quiet for a moment as I contemplate her words. My gut is telling me not to even consider it. He is evil and vile, and he deserves the worst possible charge he can get.
But my head is saying that with everything I know about this case and that attack, an aggravated assault charge would be much easier to convict. He’d go to jail either way, but a heavier charge might cost our family more time and stress.
What does he honestly deserve?
