Which I shared with him.
“Neo will be there, too,” he noted. “Maybe he can calm Dean and you down at the same time.”
That was true.
We’d gotten permission to bring Neo with us into the courtroom.
He’d have his muzzle on.
Everything would be okay.
Everything wasn’t okay.
Brooke was making Dean nervous, and every time Dean said something on the witness stand, Brooke would scoff or say something under her breath and Dean would clam up.
Eventually, Dean’s lawyer asked for a recess, and it was granted.
Van and I sat on the bench stiff as boards as Dean made his way to us.
Van reached for his son and pulled him in tight, whispering to him quietly.
In the six weeks that Van had become a dad officially, he’d changed a lot.
No longer stiff and unyielding, he had a lot of bend in him now. Until it came to Dean.
Then Van was ruthless and cunning, conniving and vindictive.
I loved it.
The recess finished, and we were forced back into our earlier positions, though this time Dean took Neo up to the stand with him.
The judge didn’t say anything, but I could tell he thought it was unusual.
Van, the club brothers behind me, and I didn’t.
The pair had done a lot of healing over the last six weeks, and you could tell that they were partners now.
You usually didn’t see one without the other.
Dean was even going to SAR meetings with Neo and me, learning right alongside us.
“Dean,” Dean’s lawyer said. “Can you tell us about the time that Brooke hurt your arm? Broke it?”
Dean nodded warily and started with his story.
But Brooke’s ugly snort and “what the fuck ever’” had the judge turning to her and saying, “One more outburst, and you’re out of my courtroom. We don’t need you here to sentence you.”
Oh, boy.
“Sorry, sir,” Brooke said, overly sweet.
Two-faced bitch.
“Continue, Dean,” his lawyer urged.
Dean continued, but this time, Brooke wasn’t the one to interrupt, but Nadine.
“Dean, honey. Let’s be honest here.”
