Chapter 7

chapter

seven

It wouldn't happen again.

Every time, he thought if he just fucked her hard enough, he'd imprint on her as indelibly as she had him. If he just made her come enough times, she'd drop her defenses and admit that she needed him as much as he needed her. But it always ended like this—with her leaving and him standing in the cold, empty silence of his self-inflicted heartbreak.

Cal let out a self-deprecating chuckle as he slowly buttoned his shirt. His gaze lingered on the staircase Ellie had fled up just a few minutes ago, the faint echo of her hurried footsteps still ringing in his ears.

She was right. They couldn't keep doing this.

He loved Ellie Summers with an intensity that sometimes scared him. But the woman was stubborn—more stubborn than anyone he'd ever met. She had built a fortress around herself, and no matter how much he tried, he couldn't breach those walls.

It was time to stop trying.

Time to move on with his life.

Maybe he could try dating again. He'd attempted it after she dumped him, but none of the women lived up to Ellie's sparkle, and he'd always gone home alone.

He had to cut all ties this time—a clean break. Ash had warned him off Hope's case anyway, so he had nothing left to hold onto. He had to let her go.

But even as he thought of it, everything in him resisted the idea. He pulled out his phone and stared at Ellie's number—his thumb hovering over the call button. But what would he say? His fingers moved before he could stop them, typing out a message:

I'm sorry.

Then he pocketed his phone and headed home.

The following week flew by.

Cal was in court almost every day, and between trials, he poured himself into three new cases that came in. One was a DUI, one was a bar fight gone wrong, and the last was a repeat client, a twenty-year-old kid who never had a chance to be anything but a criminal and was now looking at a potential life sentence thanks to the three strikes law. Taking on three new clients when he was already slammed meant a lot of long hours, but at least it kept his mind occupied.

But he couldn't escape Ellie completely.

Every stray moment between his hectic schedule, he fought the urge to call her. He'd see a flash of blonde curls or blue eyes behind glasses, and his heart would stop, only to start again with a painful lurch when it wasn't her. He'd catch a whiff of her perfume on a passerby, and for a second, he was back in her arms. It was torture, but it was better than the nothingness that threatened to consume him otherwise.

Every day, it felt like she was slipping further from his grasp. She never answered his text, and it never even showed that she'd read it. Had she blocked his number?

It felt final this time. He could feel Ellie moving away from him—physically, emotionally... and, worst of all, irrevocably.

So on Friday, when he finally won a hard-fought, drawn-out court battle and turned to shake hands with his client's father, he was shocked to see her sitting at the back of the courtroom.

Was he imagining her?

Other people came forward to congratulate him on the win, momentarily blocking his view. He shook hands and exchanged pleasantries, but his eyes were constantly drawn to the back of the room.

When the crowd thinned, she was still there.

It was actually her this time, not a figment of his ever-hopeful imagination. There was no mistaking those bright red glasses—her favorite pair in her seemingly endless collection—and that explosion of blond curls that she could never fully tame.

She stared at him, her expression unreadable. His heart pounded in his ears as he excused himself from the crowd and headed toward her.

As he approached, Ellie looked at him with a kind of clinical detachment, as if she were studying something under a microscope. Her impassive gaze was colder than any he'd received from her in the past, and she held up a hand as he opened his mouth to say... something. He had no idea what. He wasn't going to apologize for what happened between them last weekend.

"I'm not here to talk about what happened at the wedding," she said flatly.

"Okay." He drew the word out. "Then why are you here?"

Instead of answering, her gaze shifted toward his client as the bailiff led him out in handcuffs. "What did he do, kill someone?"

The kid had non-fatally shot someone in a panic as he tried to rob a convenience store for drug money. He'd used the drugs to self-medicate untreated schizophrenia. It was precisely what the insanity defense was made for, but going that route was always dangerous. A plea of insanity worked in a defendant's favor only around twenty percent of the time, so he'd had to get creative with his defense.

But he couldn't tell her all that, so he simply said, "No, he didn't kill anyone."

A furrow formed between her brows. "Didn't you win?"

He watched until the kid and the guard disappeared out the side door. "I did."

"Then why is he still in handcuffs?"

"Because he's still in custody and will remain so for several years, but now, instead of going to prison, he's going to get medical help."

She studied him for a moment, then nodded, her gaze drifting away from him. "That's good," she murmured.

"Yes, it is." His voice was soft, intentionally gentle. "He needed help, not punishment."

She flinched. He'd once said the exact words to her about Jaxon Thorne, who was also now serving out his sentence in a prison psychiatric hospital due to severe untreated PTSD and drug addiction.

The courtroom slowly emptied around them, the hum of conversation dying down as people filed out.

Cal waited a moment longer before asking again, "Why are you here, Ellie?"

She picked up a thick file from the bench beside her and handed it to him. "This is everything I have about Hope—all the research I've done, every lead I've followed over the years."

He slowly took the file and thumbed through it. There was a lot of information here, far more than he ever managed to extract from the few police reports he'd found concerning her disappearance. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Ellie researched every case she and Alexis covered on their podcast, and she was nothing if not thorough.

"Okay," he said, closing the file and handing it back to her. "But that doesn't answer my question."

She refused to take it back and curled her hands into fists in her lap. "You've managed to find out more about her in a matter of months than I've found in years. You found—" Her voice broke, and she cleared her throat before trying again. "You found her daughter."

"More like she found me."

"She reached out to you because you're… you. People trust you. I don't inspire that level of trust, so…" She wouldn't meet his eyes, focusing instead on the far wall over his shoulder. "I need your help to find her again."

He grinned. "That hurt, didn't it?"

"What?"

"Admitting you need my help."

Her eyes snapped to his, sparking with indignation. "You are such an ass sometimes."

Something in him unclenched at the insult, a sliver of hope piercing through the fog of heartbreak. Yeah, okay, she'd called him an ass, but her voice no longer held the cold detachment she had been addressing him with earlier.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Cal replied, his grin persisting.

Ellie frowned, but there was a hint of something else in her expression. It wasn't quite amusement, but it wasn't far off— a spark of the Ellie he knew and loved buried beneath the frost.

"You would," she said, and her posture relaxed ever so slightly. "You know, it's insufferable how you manage to turn everything around."

He shrugged. "It's a lawyer thing."

That earned him an eye roll. "Of course. It's always a lawyer thing."

He studied her for a moment longer, soaking in her presence. She was here, asking for his help. This was his chance— not necessarily to make everything right between them, but at least to prove that he could be there for her.

"So, will you help or not?" she asked after a moment of silence.

"Of course I'll help. I'll always help you, Ellie."

She looked down at her hands, twisting them anxiously in front of her.

He reached out to take her hands, and still the nervous gesture, but she pulled away.

"Alright then," she said in a rush and took a step back from him, putting more distance between them. "As long as we're clear that this is strictly professional."

Cal nodded. The rejection of his touch stung, but he made sure to keep his face neutral. "Absolutely, strictly professional."

She studied him for a long moment, her blue eyes guarded behind those red glasses. There was fear there, and pain, and an undercurrent of longing that made his heart jump.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

Someone called his name from the front of the courtroom. He didn't look to see who it was but lifted his hand in acknowledgment. "I have a few more things to do today, but I can meet you at my place at about six. We can order take-out for dinner."

"No," she said too quickly, and color infused her cheeks. She pushed her slipping glasses up her nose. "I'd rather meet in public."

Right. Because the last time she came over to his place to talk about something, they'd ended up in bed together. She probably didn't want to risk it happening again.

"Okay, then. The Mad Dog at six?"

She was already backing away. "Yep, it's a date. I mean, not a date. It's definitely not a date. This is professional. We already said it was strictly professional, nothing else. I meant… six is good. The Mad Dog is good. I'll, uh…" She trailed off, and the color in her cheeks deepened.

God, he loved the way she babbled when she was nervous. It was adorable. "See you then, Ellie."

She made a distressed squeaking sound and turned around, her blond curls bouncing around her face as she rushed from the courtroom. He watched her for a moment before giving in to the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. This was going to be so much more interesting than the evening he'd initially planned.

"Cal."

The sharp bark of his name had him wincing. Ash was striding toward him with his usual scowl etched on his face.

"Hi, Ash. How are you? I'm great, thanks for asking. The weather is particularly nice today, isn't it?"

Ash's scowl only deepened. "What was Ellie doing here?"

Cal shrugged nonchalantly, attempting to keep his booming heart from broadcasting in neon letters on his forehead. "Just chatting."

"About what?" Ash asked, crossing his thick arms over his chest.

"Personal stuff." He looked away from Ash's piercing gaze to watch the last of the courtroom clear out.

"Personal stuff," Ash repeated as if tasting the words and scowled even deeper at their flavor. "You told her about the girl. About Hope."

Cal turned back to Ash, meeting his gaze head-on. "You're right, I did." He wasn't going to lie to the Ash, a man he respected despite their differing views on most matters. "She deserved to know."

The sheriff shook his head, rubbing his temples in frustration. "This is a criminal investigation, Cal."

"I thought you said there was nothing criminal to investigate."

"Yeah, I was wrong. And—" He bit off whatever he'd been about to say. "Just stay away from this." He nodded toward the door Ellie had exited through. "And keep her away."

"Did you forget who we're talking about?" Cal shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned back on his heels. "She's not going to back off. You should know that about her by now."

"Listen, Cal. This has the potential to get ugly fast. I don't want either of you tangled up in this mess." The sheriff held his gaze for a moment, then sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But you're gonna do whatever you want anyway." It wasn't a question.

Cal grinned. "I'm glad we understand each other."

"We never understand each other," Ash muttered as he walked away. At the door to the courtroom, he paused and looked back. "Keep her safe. If anything happens to her, I'm holding you responsible."