Never Giving Up (Never #3)

“And he’s still pleading not guilty?” I nodded.

Jason Ramie pled not guilty to the charge of attempted aggravated murder and so the process became so much more than I had ever imagined. We were headed for a jury trial. All our lawyers and Detective Dillard told us it was a slam dunk case. With the testimony of the person who gave the police his identity, the surveillance video at Poppy, and the new forensic evidence that matched the bullet found at the scene to a gun Ramie had in his possession at his arrest; all signs pointed to guilty. The most damning piece of evidence they had, of course, was me.

Porter argued for hours with our lawyer, telling him that there was no way in hell I was getting up on the stand and testifying. He was convinced that I had been through enough and that they didn’t need my testimony. The lawyer, bless his heart, listened to Porter, but never wavered. The case was good on its own, but with me it was golden. I let Porter assert himself, let him rant and rave, and do his best to keep me safe, but eventually I told them both that I would do, gladly, anything that helped put Jason Ramie behind bars.

That evening I was so worried about Porter. I’d never seen him so uptight. He was angry with me and I didn’t know how to make him understand.

“Porter, please, talk to me.” He banged things around in his workshop in Lincoln City, moving things from one spot to another, tossing things, ripping up papers from his desk.

“I can’t talk to you right now.” Those words hurt. He never denied me anything, especially not himself. My air was stuck in my throat. Everything in my body seized up.

“Please,” I squeaked. His face turned towards me, but he was still all the way on the other side of the shop.

“I won’t sit by and watch you torture yourself, Ella. I won’t sit in that courtroom and watch you relive all the terror you’ve experienced in the last year. They don’t need you to win this thing. You’re volunteering to be torn apart, and I’ll be damned if I’ll stand by and let it happen.” His chest moved up and down, labored by his heaving breaths. I’d never seen him this angry before. We’d had arguments, of course, but he’d never been upset with me.

“That’s not how I see it,” I whispered. His eyes shot over to me. “I just want to help. I can help end this. I can do it.”

“No one is questioning whether or not you’re capable, Ella! Not one person cares if you can pull it off. I know you can. I know you’ll sit on that stand and you’ll tell them everything. You’ll give them every tiny detail you can remember, shredding yourself for him, again. You’ll let him take another piece of you and no one but me seems to care what effect it will have on you, or on me. I’ll be forced to watch you fall apart, again, and just be reminded that I failed you.” His voice broke and his head fell forward, hiding his face from me.

“Porter, no,” I whispered, my voice breaking, my head shaking back and forth. “Please, don’t think that way.”

“I can’t help it. I’ve tried for a year now to bury the voice in my head that tells me everything could have been avoided if I’d found a way to protect you, but all I’m left with are the images of you laying in that hospital bed, or you sitting on that porch with blood covering you . . .” He ran his hands through his hair and huffed out angry breaths. “You’ve been through enough and if I can keep you from having to relive it, I swear to God, Ella, I will.”

I slowly took a step towards him, trying to gauge how he would react to me. He didn’t move away, so I took another step towards him.

“I’m not going to try and convince you that I’m fine, because I’m not. I’m changed. Altered. Different. But I’m not broken. I might have been, for a little while, but I’ve managed to put myself back together. You helped me with that, Porter. You helped me find the pieces of myself I thought I’d lost and helped me put them together again. But the same way you won’t sit by and watch me fall apart, I won’t sit by and let you blame yourself for this.”

I took another step towards him. We were just feet from each other now.

“Two very terrible men are responsible for this, not you. Not in any way is this your fault. To hear you tell me that you feel that way almost hurts worse than anything either of them did to me.” I swallowed, closing the distance between us, only inches now. “I can do this, Porter. I can walk into that courtroom and tell everyone who can hear me what that man did to me. I can do that. I need to do that.” I reached up and cupped his face, rubbing my thumb across his cheek. “But I need you more. I need you to be there, being strong for me, supporting me. I can’t tell you how much I need you.”

“I’ll always be here for you,” he whispered, leaning into my hand. “But sometimes, it seems like that’s not enough.”

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