Page 35 of Hidden & Held

I wait.

“What he does when there’s nothing in it for him.” Sam’s expression hardens. “Phoenix doesn’t owe you another chance. Don’t show up expecting one.”

“I don’t.”

“Good.” He nods toward my car. “Then maybe we’ll see you Wednesday.”

Sam turns to walk back while Jared lingers for one second.

“They run out of onion rings fast on Wednesday nights. You should get there early.” He follows Sam out, leaving that parting wisdom.

I look back once before I get in my car. The fire is still going. I listen for the sound of her laughter one more time before I shut my door.

I sit after the guys disappear back to the cabin. Arrested. Nobody at Cascadia Legal mentioned an arrest. Cassandra surely hadn’t.

Suspensions happen. They can be explained, easily forgotten. But family lawyers don’t get arrested, not without consequences.

Pulling out my phone, I look for the county records before I even start the engine. The details are sparse. But it’s there. The date, location, and the officer’s name. I read it twice.

When I finish, I am no longer wondering how Phoenix ended up in handcuffs. I’m wondering why nobody at Cascadia Legal thought that mattered.

And for the first time, I wonder how many other things I never bothered to ask about.

11

PHOENIX

Iwake up the next morning in Becca’s cabin to birds chirping and light starting to filter in through the window. The sound of the river gently meandering in the distance should be calming. It is, until my cough ruins it. Rolling out of bed to make coffee, I feel achy all over. It’s only a cold. I get them from time to time. Mack tells me that a weakened immune system is another symptom of my burnout and that I need to rest more when I feel sick.

Being sick growing up laid the foundation. My mother, like many in the medical field, didn’t believe in going to the doctor unless we were on death’s doorstep. The one time I remember asking if I could stay home from school, she brought up falling behind: what if I missed something and couldn’t catch up?

I shake off those thoughts, looking for the coffee, when I find a note.

Don’t hate me. I was only allowed to leave you enough coffee for one cup. She may be sweet, but Mack can be scary when she wants to be! —Becca

Beside the note is a box of ginger tea. I make coffee anyway and I can practically hear Nessa’s outrage about it from here.

I sit on the small couch, staring at the river, trying to empty my head. It doesn’t take. The list starts building itself anyway, one worry stacking on the next like they’ve been waiting for permission. To ease my rapid concerns, I list out the items I have done that I can control. It’s a tactic I use to attempt to relax. I’ve already sent out résumés and I expect to hear back soon. Additional income from the duplex rental will be flowing shortly. There, that should help my brain calm down.

When relaxation doesn’t come, I move to deep cleaning the cabin. It’s impeccable already, but I still scrub every surface. I’m thankful for her letting me spend last night here, but I hate the feeling of owing someone. Especially since the last time I started to lean on someone, he quickly pulled away.

I send Becca a photo.

The place was perfect. I expected nothing less, though.

Instantly, I receive a reply

Becca

You did not clean after I explicitly told you not to, did you?

I plead the fifth.

Becca

Gah, fine, get out of there. Your new tenant should be moving in tomorrow, Miss Landlord!

Smiling as a surge of nerves and excitement floods me. This was a dream I have been working toward. Granted, I was hoping not to be living in a construction zone, but now, without an 80-hour-a-week job, I have more time.