Page 147 of The Monster and the Masochist

“Good.”

Then I wrapped her up in my arms and lay back on the couch, tugging her down on top of me where she belonged.

Finally, she lost the battle with her emotions, and she finally broke down. I held her while she sobbed, kissing her softly on the top of her head.

“Shhh. You’re okay, baby. You’re safe. I won’t let him hurt you. Not now, not ever. I’ve got you, okay?” I rubbed her back in soothing circles as she cried into my neck. Neither of us moved for a long time, and I was still whispering gentle words of praise and comfort into her ears well after she’d finally fallen asleep.

Iwasn’t sure whether it was the talisman or just the mere fact of finally sharing the burden of her secret with someone, but Theo noticeably improved over the next few weeks.

Her bruises faded, and so did the darkness in her eyes.

After her mandated two-week rest ended, she resumed training with Jerry, informing me that she needed to be on top of her game to fight some woman she referred to as the Russian. When I’d expressed my concerns that this was just another form of self-sabotage, she’d assured me that wasn’t the case. She’d been working toward this specific fight for years, and as much as I hated it, I didn’t really have a right to tell her to quit weeks before her big headliner.

Getting her into a more legit league was on my list of things to work toward with her, but I knew I didn’t have a chance at that until she’d completed this fight. It seemed to be a big deal in her world, so I begrudgingly allowed her to resume training without much pushback.

As long as she wasn’t drinking, I could stomach it.

While Theo didn’t seem interested in bringing up her trauma with me again, she did surprise me by asking me about starting therapy.

The absolute pride I’d felt had almost been enough to quell the deep, low, simmering pot of rage that had been bubbling in my gut since I’d learned someone had hurt her.

Almost.

Maybe I would have been able to calm down eventually if I hadn’t been forced to defend the kind of man who would have hurt little Theo if he’d had the chance.

But as it was, every day at work, I was confronted with exactly the type of evil that had broken the woman I’d been steadily falling in love with.

Theo never said anything to me about defending such a man, but I saw the way her shoulders tensed whenever the case popped up on the news.

I’d stopped putting the TV on in the condo altogether, unless it was to play Smash Bros with Theo after we’d shared one of her home-cooked vegan meals.

It wasn’t worth disrupting the peaceful domestic bliss we were so easily slipping back into. Theo didn’t want to hear about the case, and frankly, neither did I.

Outside of how amazing my home life was beginning to feel, work was getting harder and harder for me to endure.

More girls came forward as the weeks went on, and with each new accusation, my ability to turn my back on my own morals waned.

It was getting to the point where I was seriously considering walking away from the firm entirely… partnership be damned… but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that would only be a temporary solution to my dilemma.

If I left Sinclair and Morrissy, I would just end up at another firm as a senior defense attorney, stuck at the whim of new partners chasing billables without any consideration for the moral fiber of the clientele I would be forced to represent.

If I wanted to keep my career and manage to do so with some level of respect for myself and the work I did, I would need to be smart about it.

Happily, I was both smart and petty… So it didn’t take long for me to come up with a plan that would get the reverend out of my life for good, without painting me in a bad light with the partners.

I would still get my promotion, and my first order of business once my name was on the wall would be to implement a pro bono defense program specifically for CSA survivors.

It was an ambitious plan, and one that I would unfortunately need help with, which is why, for once, I was the one ignoring Nolan’s executive assistant’s protests as I let myself into his office unannounced.

Nolan’s office was a more cliched replica of mine. He’d gone with more traditionally masculine furniture, and I found him sitting on one of his luxury brown leather sofas with his laptop and case papers spread out on the heavy mahogany coffee table that acted as the centerpiece of the space.

He didn’t seem to be interested in any of the work he had spread out before him, and whatever I’d been about to bark at him died on my lips when I realized he was engrossed in a small, brightly colored book instead.

He was so engrossed, in fact, that he didn’t seem to notice that I’d blown into his office without warning.

“What’s this?” I asked, plucking the small book out of his hand before he could register that I’d snuck up on him.

He let out an undignified squawk.