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He must have sensed me because he shut off the saw and turned in my direction. “Hey. How's the studying going?”
“My brain's fried. I need a break.” I couldn't help running my fingers over his arms and when I felt how tight his muscles were from the work he'd been doing, that pleasant feeling stirred in my gut. “How'd you do it?”
Clearly he was distracted because his focus was on my hand. I liked that my touch did to him what his did to me. His teal eyes shifted to mine. “Don't start something you can't finish.”
You guessed it, my knees went weak. He looked smug, probably because he turned the scales and knocked me off-balance. “How did I do what?” Yep, definitely smug.
“Take your exams so early with minimal studying and ace them?”
Cockiness replaced smugness. “Cause I'm the man.”
“Oh my God, you're such a dork.”
My feet were no longer touching the ground as I found myself up and over his shoulder. “I'll show you dork.”
Despite the fact that it was a threat, my body started to burn. He walked us into the woods that surrounded the Wrights property before he dropped me to my feet and pressed me back against a tree. I was so ready to taste him, to have his mouth covering mine, so I was bit surprised when his expression turned serious.
“I would really like to go with you to Maine.”
My first reaction was yes, but would I focus as well as I should if he was there?
“I'm not sure that's a great idea. Besides, what about your apprenticeship?”
“I'll come to help you get settled, and then I'll leave for Concord. We don't know these people, and I'm sure it's all good, but this requirement of you having to move up there is a bit left of center. I spoke to the Wrights about it, and they agree with me. If for no one else, do it for us and our peace of mind so we aren't wondering what you're walking into when you get there.”
“Okay. I'll send an email to Logan Dupree and let him know you'll be with me in the beginning.”
He exhaled in relief and I realized if I had said no, despite his words, he would have honored that. The pleasant feeling in my gut spread through my entire body.“What will you do during those weeks?”I asked.
“Grabbing a chair and spending every day looking at you isn't an option?”
“You'd grow bored.”
“Never, but I suppose I could look into work, something temporary.”And then his expression turned playful. “Now, about calling me a dork.” By the time he stopped kissing me, I made a mental note to call him a dork at least six times a day.
***
As predicted by Mr. Wright, Brad's case was brought to trial mere weeks after he was released. All eight of us were scheduled to testify. I followed the proceedings and seeing Brad looking so normal and harmless, knowing that the heart of a predator beat in his chest, terrified me. I had always believed I was a good judge of character, but I had to reconsider that now. What was even scarier was that his father seemed angrier at the fact that his son had been caught than the actual crime he was being tried for. My conversation with my uncle flashed into my head. Brad's father had been abusive and it was more than likely that whatever molded his father's views had been trained into the son. I felt sorry for Brad. It seemed to me if anyone deserved to be standing trial, it should be Bradley Senior since Junior never stood a chance.
The day I was scheduled to testify, I was a nervous wreck. I had never been in a courtroom, so I didn't know what to expect even though the lawyers had been really great with preparing me for the experience.
It looked like the countless courtrooms I'd seen on television: a rather large room with wood paneling along the Judge's bench and the witness stand, the small wooden swing-door that separated the judge and counselors from those who had come to watch the proceedings and behind the judge a brass emblem hung depicting the scales of justice.
Brad sat right in the front. I felt like I was doing the walk of shame as I made my way to the witness stand and got sworn in.
The prosecutor started—the questions were all ones we had rehearsed. My voice wasn't exactly steady but it seemed clear and loud. When the state rested, Brad's attorney started his cross. I had been dreading the cross-examination, since so often in television the victim was put on trial. There were a few shady questions, ones aimed at trying to discredit me, but all in all, it went as expected. I wasn't in the court room for more than twenty minutes before the judge dismissed me.
Walking out of the courtroom, I glanced at Brad, but he didn't look at me. He had his head lowered. Maybe if he had a different father or a mother who had been able to seek help for him, could all of this have been avoided? Mica was right, Brad needed to be held accountable, but there was a part of me that wondered how much of his attitude had been fostered by his father's own attitude and his mother's neglect.
About a week after I testified, Brad was found guilty and sentenced to three to five years. He'd probably be out in a year, but his actions were going to follow him for the rest of his life.
Chapter Fifteen
Dear Mr. Dupree,
My name is Larkspur O'Bannion and I wanted to thank you, first, for the scholarship and the wonderful opportunity to study with you.
I am in awe of your use of color, but your depth perception is even more phenomenal. Some of your works look more like snapshots than something created with paint and brush. That is an area I need to work on. I also read you work in clay and glass and I would love to watch you, since I have very little experience in sculpting work.
