Please.
Not for the first time, I wished Steve and Dad had come to bear witness—to finally see the games Greg loved to play, and they’d been so oblivious of. I understood why Steve wasn’t here—he loved his son, but he couldn’t stand by and watch two children he’d help raise battle in court. And I appreciated why Dad wouldn’t step foot in the court because he fussed over Belle Elle as if it was his wife and needed mollycoddling while this nightmare carried on.
Greg pouted for the jury, saying how happy we’d been, only for our romance to be destroyed when Penn swooped in and claimed me for himself. He came across far too convincing.
I was glad I hadn’t had anything to eat because I would’ve thrown up.
Bastard.
Larry’s opening statement had been short and to the point. That the accusations were false. That Greg had kidnapped me and Penn had rescued me. The end.
The jury fazed out a little, hearing the same rebuttal most of us had heard on the news or TV once upon a time.
I squirmed in my seat, wanting to leap to my feet and beg the jury to listen to the girl who’d been there, lived it. Prove to them that I loved Penn, not Greg. It had never been Greg. Penn had ruined me for all other men even when I didn’t know his name.
But Larry had sucked up their attention the moment he’d said, “What is on trial today isn’t if Penn went to that cabin with the intention of murder but whether or not the chief of police, Arnold Twig, has been using Mr. Everett for his own son’s misdemeanors for years.”
The judge had come alive, rapping with his little hammer. “Stick to the case at hand, Mr. Barns. We’re here to discuss the aggravated assault and attempted murder charges—not some fictitious witch-hunt on a respected police officer.”
Even though Dad was friends with Patrick Blake, we wouldn’t earn any special treatment. Which was a good thing and a bad thing. I was glad it would be fair for both parties but was sick of evil managing to hoodwink good far too often.
Greg had snickered, pleased Larry had been told off.
Penn stiffened, his shoulders high, begging me to massage away his stress if only I was allowed to lean forward and put my hands on him.
I’d probably be arrested for touching the defendant.
I’d sat on my fingers, turning my attention from the man who turned my heart molten to Larry.
He’d merely smiled at the judge with his hands crossed politely. “It’s all linked, sir. And I can prove it.”
Goosebumps darted down my spine for the fiftieth time since he’d said that. My mind snapped out of the last few hours in court, slapping me back into the present.
Sitting on plastic seats outside the courtroom, holding a flimsy cup of coffee thanks to Fleur shoving it in my hands, I hoped and prayed that Greg would do the right thing.
I would’ve given anything to speak with him. To find out what his decision was and if Penn would be free or convicted.
There must be a way.
“Court resumes in five minutes.” An employee stuck his head into the hallway where we gathered beneath monolithic arches and portraits of dead judges.
Minglers stood, gathering handbags and finishing coffee dregs.
“Ready?” I smiled bright as Stewie climbed to his feet, shuffling toward the double doors where we’d endure yet more torture while waiting for Penn to be freed.
He shrugged, his eyes large and worried. “I guess so.”
Fleur and I exchanged looks.
My arm found its way over Stewie’s shoulders, hugging him close. “It will all work out. You’ll see.”
He wriggled under my embrace but didn’t push me away. He wore the suit Penn had bought from Belle Elle—a smart little man ready to battle for his friend. “I dunno. Shit happens.”
I didn’t reprimand him for his language.
Because he was right.
We might have every truth and honesty on our side, but at the end of the day...shit happened.
And there was nothing we could do about it.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Penn
SMUG FUCKING BASTARD.
Greg sat next to his zombie of a lawyer, not even bothering to hide his arrogance.
Larry prowled in front, speaking to the court, blocking me from trying to kill Greg with my eyes.
My gaze met Larry’s from the witness stand, remembering this was my time to be cordial and well-spoken, not fuming with fury at the bastard who’d stolen another five months of my life. Five months away from Elle. Five months away from happiness.
Larry interrupted my hate. “In your own words, can you describe that night in question?”
That night.
What night?
Oh yeah, he’d been talking about the charity gala. I sat up straight, glancing at the jury with a soft smile. “Ever since my success, I’ve given what I now have to those who don’t have anything. I know what it’s like to have nothing, and it’s a driving force of mine to give them a chance like another gave one to me.”
I gave Larry a look crammed full of gratitude. It might be years since he’d taken me in, but when I thought about what he’d given me, motherfucking tears almost came to my eyes.
“So the event was your charity?” Larry asked.
“Yes.”
“What is it called?”
Shit.
I glanced at Elle. I hadn’t told her this part. Would she think I was an idiot? I’d gone through so many names for many months. After the penny stock I’d invested in hit an all-time high—going from five cents a share to seventy-five dollars in a matter of months—a majority of the profits were reinvested into the stock, gradually buying more and more until I became the main shareholder of a company that recently got bought out by the CIA for an undisclosed, obscene figure.
After that success, I couldn’t just let the money sit there.
I was set for life.
I might as well help others as well as myself.
I knew I wanted to help people but didn’t have a clue what to call the charity.
I’d discounted the more generic names like Homeless No More. Or Roof Over Your Head. Things that would say what the charity entailed. But the charity wouldn’t have existed without Larry’s faith in me and Elle’s ability to reach into my chest that night and start my heart beating for other things.
Things like her.
Things I could never deserve unless I got my shit together.
I cleared my throat. “It’s called Chocolate Runaway.”
Chocolate for that kiss.
Runaway because if she hadn’t, we would never have met and my life would be so fucking different.
I might not be sitting here on trial, but then again, I might never have gotten free from the last arrest because I wouldn’t have had the gumption to take Larry up on his offer.