Page 93 of All The Ways to Miss You

I expect them to call for security again, but instead, Senator London places a hand on my chest as I pass. When I pause, she places her other hand on her husband’s chest. Now she’s pressed between us like a dam that’s about to break.

“Evan, you aren’t to come here again. Understand?” she says.

“Try and stop me.” I pull away from her and march away, desperate to put distance between the wild animal and his prey. I should be worried about the consequences, but I’m too furious. Who the fuck are they to keep us apart?

But then I remember the temporary restraining order. My court case is in a week. Being within one-hundred yards of them could get me thrown back in jail. Will it matter that I didn’t seek them out? I was here for Cait, and it was them who surprised me.

I repeat what I know. When Cait wakes, everything will return to normal.

I haven’t heard from Devon in days and am a wreck not knowing how Cait’s doing. I call his cell, knock on his apartment door, but nothing. No information. Even Linden’s hospital connections have gone silent. It’s like someone sniffed them out and squashed them, and it’s obvious who that someone was.

On the day of the hearing, I meet Linden and our attorney, Fred Layton, at the courthouse. I’m nervous. I can’t help it. I’ve never even gotten a traffic ticket, much less punched someone. By all accounts, I’ve always been considered a chill person, but even a chill person can be pushed to their limit.

“Bad news. Very bad.” Fred sets his briefcase on a bench, then removes several papers and hands them to Linden.

Linden shuffles through them, pausing on one. He holds it up for me to see, a grim expression on his face. It’s a series of security camera photos timestamped a week ago.

I grab them and flip through, becoming more infuriated by each new image. They show me in and out of Cait’s hospital room. Several are of her father and me with three feet between us. Her mother’s squeezed between, like she’s holding us apart, breaking up a fight. It’s another move I now realize was calculated on her part.

“It’s not as bad as it looks. They showed up when I was leaving.” I hand the photos back and squeeze my eyes shut. I know what I sound like—a guilty man. This isn’t happening. I never thought to look for the cameras, not that they would have stopped me.

Linden sucks in a breath to calm himself, but he can’t be that surprised. Though I never told him where I went that night, I did what I had to do, what anyone would have done in my place.

“I told you I couldn’t keep that promise. You know I had to see her,” I explain.

Understanding, he nods and turns to Fred. “Now what?”

“Since this is based on assaulting a federal judge—a senator’s husband, no less—I’d say you’re looking at the possibility of a year’s jail time plus fines, and an additional five years on a restraining order that can be renewed if a threat persists.”

“I want to talk to them and clear this up.” I’m certain we can work something out. We’re adults. Cait’s an adult. We’ve been together for years. This is getting out of control.

Fred arranges a meeting with her parents before the hearing. They file into a private conference room with a long oval table. Linden, Fred, and I sit on one side, and Cait’s parents sit on the other. It dawns on me why they need no representation. They’re attorneys. Their suited-up security stands behind them, hands folded.

“Thanks for seeing me,” I say as they settle in their chairs.

Fred begins. “Let’s get down to it. Understandably, my client was under great duress on the day of the shootings. After waiting hours, he only wished to see his girlfriend of three years. Like you, he was deeply concerned for Miss London’s well-being. Mr. Wade deeply regrets the altercation that took place and wishes you no harm. We’d like the assault charges and restraining order dropped.”

Judge London clears his throat and glances at his wife, who appears smug. My heart sinks before she even speaks.

“As stated,” she says, “a boyfriend isn’t family. And there would be no restraining order if he had restrained himself.”

“Regardless, they’ve been together for some time, and I’m sure your daughter would find great comfort in having him at her side when she wakes. I’m sure we can arrange a schedule where both parties can visit and not interact.”

Cait’s parents exchange a meaningful glance. One slides a piece of paper across the table. Fred reaches for it and reads silently.

“Now here’s my offer.” Senator London folds her hands on the table. “You sign this agreement stating you’ll stay away from my husband and me for ten years, and we’ll drop the charges. If you break this, we’ll press for the maximum penalty, and you’ll never see daylight again.”

“Pfft.” I rest back in my chair. “I don’t even understand why you’re bothering. When Cait wakes, she’ll do what she wants. And what she’ll want is to be with me.”

“I agree,” her mom says. “When Cait wakes, she’ll be free to make her own decisions. But for now, we’re her next of kin. We make the decisions.”

I try not to react to her jab but zero in on the fact that she agrees with me on something. No matter how minor, this gives me pause. My attention swings to her husband, who’s always remained strangely quiet. He tugs at his collar as if it’s cinching his neck like a noose. He squares his hands on the table and pins his gaze on his twiddling fingers.

Fred leans in and whispers to Linden and me. “It’s a case with extreme circumstances, and you have no record of violence, but we’re dealing with powerful people. This may be our best option.”

“Maybe we should take a short pause,” Linden suggests.

We nod.