Chapter 39

Soren

"I 'm pretty sure we lost juror number five," said Eiv, our private investigator, while he, one of my co-counsels, Charlie, and I looked over the jurors' photos we pinned on the wall.

"Agreed," I said, moving number five from the center to the left, making sure the picture aligned with the others.

"But we did win juror number ten. He has a soft touch for animals," I said, recalling the man's face after we brought up the vegan arguments and how unlikely it was for Camilo, a firm animal lover, to kill the cat. Sadly, they'd also found a poor, lifeless kitten at the crime scene. As tragic as it was, it came in useful because proving Camilo's deep affection toward animals was easy. All it took was showing the scar on his back, one he got after he refused to hurt some stray dog years ago, along with speaking about his choice to go vegan. It was amazing how the small details in life could suddenly turn significant.

"But after Jones brought up the DNA evidence, jurors three and one also seemed doubtful." Jones was the leading prosecutor. An idiot son of a bitch.

Camilo's DNA was all over the apartment, and while I did manage to explain it was normal, given the fact he and the victim were dating, not all jurors believed it. The crime scene being a penthouse owned by the man the victim allegedly had an affair with and left Camilo for wasn't helpful.

"Agreed." I moved numbers three and one to the left side, then took a step back to examine the wall.

"Well, shit," my co-counsel hissed as we studied our stance. "We've got five against us, two with us, and five pending."

"Don't worry, Charlie." I patted his back. "It will change soon enough. You also can't forget that Christian took the stand today. That piece of shit sure knows how to sway a crowd." I rolled my eyes, thinking back on today's events.

"The cross-examination didn't help much," he pointed out.

I smiled.

"Well, I didn't expect to get much out of it," I admitted.

"How come? We know he's an abusive father."

Once again, I laughed.

"Allegedly, Charlie. He is an abusive father, allegedly ."

Eiv sighed. "Seven months in, and I couldn't find one piece of evidence to prove that Christian W. Rogers is a piece of shit who hits his own son."

It was definitely a shame because without solid evidence of the abuse, bringing it up was a high risk. All we had was hearsay testimony from Andrei, Camilo's friend, which could be easily dismissed. Christian wasn't some nobody but a beloved public figure. Putting him on the stand while accusing him of something so outrageous would be like shooting ourselves in the foot.

"We don't need Christian when we have him," I said, picking a photo from the table and pinning it to the wall.

"The mobster?" Eiv chuckled. "Why am I not surprised?"

Dion Bianchi, the rightful heir of the famous crime lord Francesco Bianchi, was one of my key witnesses. I'd bet my family's wealth Dion knew who committed the murder but would never tell us. Not that it mattered. All I needed out of him was a reaction—one that proved he and Shay-Lee were never a couple. If I could manage to show Shay-Lee didn't leave Camilo for Dion, then that would put a crack in the prosecutor's argument.

"You got something up your sleeve, don't you?" Eiv teased while placing his hand on my shoulder and leaning closer.

"Of course I do." I winked at him, and he grinned. We'd been working together for quite some time, and I always found his cheeky attitude to be amusing . He'd been nothing but a punk when I first offered him a bit of cash in exchange for gathering information. Street cats always made the best PIs simply because they went unnoticed. Although, it was hard not to notice Eiv, with his beautiful looks. And yet, I couldn't say he was my taste, as I wasn't a fan of blonds.

"Soren," Charlie said while cocking his head in the direction of the door.

Turning around, I was surprised to see Ashton standing there, a paper bag in his hands.

"What a nice surprise." My lips quirked up at the beautiful sight. Unlike Eiv, Ash was a perfect example of my taste. From head to toe, there was nothing about him I'd change.

"Am I interrupting something?" He glanced at the wall behind me. "I can come back later—"

"Nonsense. Eiv and Charlie were just leaving."

"Were we?" Charlie cluelessly asked before Eiv elbowed him.

"Yes, C, we are," Eiv chuckled, already pushing Charlie to get moving.

When he passed Ash, Eiv stopped to give me a knowing look over his shoulder before walking out of the room.

"Who's that?" Ashton asked as soon as we were alone.

"Eiv is our PI."

"Oh."

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow at his annoyed face. Yet, not wanting to tease him too much, I pointed over at the bag he was holding. "What's that?"

"Dinner." He walked into the room and placed the bag on the table. "I thought you might be hungry."

I reached for the bag and checked inside. "Don't lie, you wanted to ask about the case." Oh , he brought steaks and veggies. "Are there any mushrooms in it?" I was deadly allergic.

"Of course not, and you're right. This food is a bribe for information," he said and glanced at the wall. "Are those the jurors?"

"Yes, but ignore that. Let's eat—"

"The ones on the left side are against us?" The panic in his voice was unmistakable.

The situation might have looked bad, but I knew it would be like this at the beginning.

"Relax, Ashton, it's completely normal for the first week of a trial."

I doubt he heard a word I'd just said with his eyes still pinned on the wall. "We're losing."

Putting the food away, I placed my hands on his shoulders and turned him around so that he'd face me. "We're not losing. We haven't even started yet."

"H-How can you say that? Just look at the jurors!" He attempted to turn around again when I forced him to stay put. I then wrapped an arm around his shoulder and led him toward the table. "Trials take time. And it's only been a few days since this one started." Ashton leaned a little bit closer to me. "I've won much harder cases." That was a lie but for a good cause. "So promise me you won't worry too much?"

Ashton paused for a moment before looking at me with a scowl. He was so anxious, and the nerves affected him. His beautiful face was tense, with a deep frown pulled between his pinched brows and a worried lip. I hated seeing him this way. Not because it aged him but because his sadness always affected me. I never bothered to tell him that when we were still together, but whatever he felt always reflected on me. I was somehow a mirror of his emotions. When he was joyful, so was I, and when he was sad, so was I.

Those days were far behind us, yet my urge to put a smile on his face never changed.

"How about we sit down to eat the food you brought and talk about the case? I'm sure you'll feel better after I answer some of your questions."

Biting his bottom lip, he nodded, and I smiled because seeing a glimpse of my little Sparrow always eased my heart.

"Has he told you anything new?" Ashton asked, referring to Camilo.

"No," I said, wishing it wasn't the case and that I had something to tell him to satisfy his thirst for information. Seeing how much he cared for this boy, all of those boys, was truly moving.

Swallowing hard, he looked down to stare at his empty plate. "I'm worried about him," he whispered in a choked voice.

"I understand that."

Camilo refused to talk to anyone. For three whole months, he hadn't said a word to me or anyone else on the defense team. Okay, so that wasn't entirely true. The first time we met, he asked me one simple question.

Is he going to live?

At the time, Shay-Lee was still in critical condition, with his life hanging by a thread, and nobody knew the answer to that question. After I failed to give Camilo an answer, he hadn't spoken to me. Not for three whole months, until I did have an answer.

" Still not talking?" I snorted once entering the room to find Camilo sitting as he always did, head down, eyes on his cuffed hands.

Not caring for his protest, I sat down on the opposite chair and began taking out files from my briefcase. "Your little boyfriend is awake," I said, and for the first time, I got a reaction from him.

With deadly silence, Camilo's eyes shot to mine. Narrowing them, he examined me closely, checking to see if I was bluffing.

"If you don't believe me, you can read it for yourself." I slid Shay-Lee's medical folder on the table, and he quickly snapped it up. Pleased, I watched him as he carefully opened the folder to read the files.

"He was transferred from intensive care to a rehabilitation unit, and although it will take time, it seems like he'll get better," I summarized it for him.

Camilo put the folder down and looked at me. Those dark eyes hadn't changed from when he was thirteen, when I took his prior case pro bono.

"But you know the same as me that him being alive means nothing. Not as long as his father's around," I said, making that point crystal clear.

His jaw twitched before he tossed the folder back at me and looked away.

Unfazed, I collected all the papers into a neat pile and then leaned back in my chair, crossing one leg over the other.

"You know you can help him, right?" I examined his side profile. I knew he was listening, so I went on. "The only way to save him is to win this case, because if we lose, you stay stuck here while he stays out there with him."

He glanced at me, lips set in a hard line.

"Let me help you help him, Camilo. I know that's what you want. I know he's the only thing that matters to you."

He stood up in a flash, so fast his chair fell to the floor. The cuffs on his hands and legs were the only things stopping him from punching my face.

"You better not bullshit me," Camilo hissed, ignoring the guard's warning.

"We're fine," I told the guard, who was ready to move while my eyes locked with Camilo's. "I'm your best chance to save him, so stop wasting our time and start talking."

Since then, Camilo had begun cooperating, with me being the only person he spoke to. While I'd had my fair share of rough clients, Camilo took the cake. Never before had I encountered a man who so vividly didn't care about his freedom. I wasn't a therapist, but I knew a man with a broken heart when I saw one, and I guessed Camilo thought living life in prison was better than living out there, in the big world, without the man he loved.

It was a feeling I knew all too well.

Life without love is a prison in itself.

Focusing my attention back on Ashton, I noticed his hair was shorter now. It suited him quite well. What a shame that I wasn't the one who got to run his fingers through those soft locks. I also admired the soft dusting of stubble that coated his strong jaw and wondered if kissing him would feel different now.

"It's all my fault, you know?"

I frowned at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Last year, Diesel came home with Shay-Lee after Christian beat him up. He asked if they could stay, and I refused."

"Ashton—"

"It was the first time Diesel ever asked for my help, but I told him no," he cut in. "Back then, it made sense. After what Shay-Lee did to Andrei, it felt wrong to help him, but how could I be so stupid?" He swallowed hard, tears gathering in his eyes. "He hates me now, as he should, because if it weren't for me, none of this would have happened. Even Kai told me I shouldn't have refused them." He brushed his tears away. "I'm always such a coward."

Suddenly, I was angry. I was angry he was holding on to guilt over things that weren't his fault. Reaching forward, I placed my hand on top of his, surprised that he didn't push me away.

"Where we are today has nothing to do with what happened that day, and you shouldn't hate yourself over it."

He shook his head. "But I do. I needed to be there for him."

"You're here for him now, and that's what counts." I smiled at him, but he still looked half-hearted. "And you're not a coward, Ashton. You didn't reject Camilo out of hatred but because you were thinking about Andrei, and that's admirable." Holding his stare, I watched how his cheeks turned red.

As if only now noticing my hand was still covering his, Ashton quickly withdrew and cleared his throat.

"I-I think I better go now." He got up, collecting the trash on the way.

He was ready to leave when I decided I wasn't quite done with him yet.

"Let me escort you to your car," I said, already getting up before he could refuse.

The ride down in the elevator felt a bit awkward on his behalf when he made sure to stand as far away from me as possible. It could have been cute if not for my need to touch him. The doors opened to the parking lot, and we both got out. Quietly, we walked to his car.

"Back with the pickup trucks?" I smirked when he pulled out his keys.

"Yeah… I need space for my dogs and boards," he answered while rubbing the back of his tan neck.

It was the first time he'd brought up something about his personal life that had nothing to do with the case.

"Is Pacha still alive?"

Ash turned to look at me, his brows raised. "Y-Yeah, he is." He seemed shocked that I remembered his beloved dog. "He's old but kicking."

"That's good to know."

"Do you have any pets?"

I snorted in response.

"Of course you don't," he chuckled.

His soft laugh was like a breath of fresh air that brought back so many moments that were now out of reach, and disappointed, I stayed quiet. I could have said something about how wonderful this evening was, but it felt pointless. Since returning here to work on the case, Ashton had made it clear he didn't want our past to resurface. So, even though the air between us was always loaded, neither of us dared to mention the elephant in the room.

So instead of commenting on his beautiful laugh and stunning smile, I told him good night before returning to my office.

One, two, three, four, five, six… I started counting the tiles on the floor. At one hundred and four, I finally reached my office and walked in, my mind still busy with Ashton. We never talked about how things ended, almost as if we'd both accepted the breakup in the years that followed. He'd clearly moved on with his life, and going back to mess him up again felt wrong. I was a selfish man. That much was true, but not when it came to him.

Never with him.

Ashton Sage was and always would be my first priority. It was why loving him nearly cost me my already fragile sanity. All of which he never knew and never would.