Authors: Dara Girard
“Your dinner. Since you won’t eat anything I cook. I thought this might help.”
He felt heat stealing into his cheeks. Lately, he hadn’t had much of an appetite. “It’s not the food—”
“Just drink it. You need nutrients.”
He lifted the glass and studied it before setting it back down. “I saw Byron before I came in.”
She sat and dived into her lasagna dish. It was in a carton of some sort. Everything seemed to come in a carton lately. “Oh.”
“I don’t want you to see him anymore.”
She stared surprised. “Why not?”
“I don’t trust him.”
“I do. He’s defending my brother.”
“I know. That doesn’t mean you have to see him outside of court.”
She boldly met his eyes. “I’ll see him if I want to.”
“I’m your husband and you promised—”
Brenna clenched her fork, her voice low. “I promised you my loyalty, not my heart. What about your promises?” Brenna covered her mouth and looked devastated as though she knew how much she’d hurt him. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. Especially from me.” She rose to her feet exasperated. “This is all wrong. I don’t want us to hurt each other.” She bit her lip and stared at him, sadness in her eyes. “Maybe we should—”
He knew the tone and the look. Angie had used them when she’d asked for a divorce. He didn’t want to go through that again. He stood. “It will get better,” he interrupted then began to walk away.
“Where are you going?”
He spun around and threw up his hands. “Dammit, not far! We live in an apartment the size of a toothpaste box. If I fell off the balcony the worse I could do is break my ankle. Where the hell could I go?”
Brenna shook her head. “It’s not that bad.”
Hunter rested his hands on his hips and stared at the ground. “I know I haven’t fulfilled my promise to you,” he said in a cold, flat tone.
“I said I was sorry.”
He met her gaze. “But you’re right. I know why you married me.”
Brenna smiled sadly. “And I know why you married me, but I’m not much use to you now, am I?”
“Things will change.” He turned.
“Why wait until then. If I left, you wouldn’t have to see her behind my back.”
Hunter stopped then looked at her confused. “Who?”
Brenna went into the kitchen and pulled a pair of stockings from the drawer. She held them out to him. “They’re not mine.”
Hunter sighed resigned and took them from her. “I know. They’re mine.” He saw her expression change then burst into laughter.
Brenna frowned. “I don’t see what’s so funny.”
He laughed harder. He staggered into the living room and fell on the couch.
Brenna stood in front of him. “Hunter!”
“I’m not wearing them,” he gasped some of his laughter subsiding. “They’re for my company.”
She sat beside him. “What company?”
He hesitated then said, “It’s called FreedomWear. We supply diabetic hose. The company hasn’t picked up as fast as I wanted, but it will. We’re working on a new line of the product that will—”
She snatched the stockings from him and shook it in his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
A remote expression entered his eyes. “I wanted to make it a success before I told you.”
Brenna stared back at him with amusement. “The fact that you own it already makes it a success to me.”
Hunter paused. She didn’t see him as a failure? She trusted him? He seized her shoulders his mood suddenly buoyant. “I don’t care who you give your heart to as long as you remain loyal to me. Okay?”
Brenna nodded, but even as she did so Hunter knew he wanted more. He wanted all of her. He didn’t expect her to love him, but he didn’t want her to love anyone else. He wanted her completely. He wanted to be the only man in her thoughts. His lips captured hers with passion near desperation and a command that was fierce. Tonight he would make sure she thought only of him.
“Tell me you’re mine,” he demanded in a deep husky tone.
“I’m yours.”
He peeled away her clothes, pressing his lips to the areas he exposed. “Say it again.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his. “I’m yours.”
Her breathless words made a possessive hunger grow within him. He couldn’t remove their clothes fast enough. Having her warm, soft form melding itself against the length of him wasn’t enough. Even as he found solace between her thighs it only took the edge off his need. He wanted her to know her words were a promise to him. She belonged to him and he wouldn’t surrender her to anyone no matter what the price.
He didn’t speak for a long time after it was over, his body limp with pleasure, but his mind filled with unease.
Brenna rested her cheek against his chest. It felt right to be with him. He didn’t want her heart, but she didn’t know how to claim it back from him. “Hunter?”
“Hmm?”
“Tell me you’re mine.”
She waited, her body filled with hope and fear, her pulse beating erratically. She shut her eyes promising she wouldn’t cry. Then she felt his large hand against her face, his touch tender and he said, “I’m yours.”
***
The sun shone through a cloudy haze the day the defense began its argument. Byron called Stephen to the stand.
It was a risky move, but Byron was confident that with his quiet reserved manner and good looks he could charm the jury. They’d practiced for this and now it was time for the stage. As expected, Stephen answered Byron’s questions calmly and he could see the audience softening towards him. The DA however, had not softened and once Byron finished his question he prepared to cross-examine and approached Stephen as the suspected murderer he was.
“Why were you at Mr. Seaborn’s residence that night?”
“I went over to talk to him about his house. I wanted to help him with his lighting and other things. ”
“A stranger you'd only just met?”
“A lot of clients start out as strangers. He seemed like a nice guy.”
“So you spent all day with him.” He paused. “The first time you met him was in a grocery store. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Is it true that you bought his groceries?”
“Yes.”
“Are you in the habit of buying people’s groceries?”
“No, but he looked a little short on cash. I was just trying to help him out.”
“Help him out,” the DA repeated the statement slowly for effect. “Is that why you also offered him a ride home?”
Stephen nodded. “Yes. It was cold and he’d missed his bus.”
“Are you in the habit of driving men home?”
“No. Like I said, I was helping him out.”
“How do you feel when people break your trust?”
Stephen shrugged. “I don’t like it, but I wouldn’t hurt them.”
“As long as they don’t make you work for them without compensation first.”
Byron raised his pen. “Objection. The DA assumes facts not in evidence, Your Honor.”
The judge nodded. “Sustained. Watch yourself counselor.”
The DA tugged on his cuffs. “Strike the statement.” He smoothed out his mustache. “Has a man ever betrayed your trust before?”
Stephen shifted in his seat. “He just stole from me. You’re making it sound like it was more than that.”
“That wasn’t the question. Has a man ever betrayed your trust before?”
“No.”
The DA paused confused. “That’s strange because I have a witness ready to testify that when you were eight a male relative molested you. Isn’t that a betrayal?”
Stephen stiffened. “That was different.”
“How was it different?”
“It’s just not the same. Stealing and…that.”
“But both people were individuals you trusted and they took advantage of you. It sounds the same to me, don’t you agree?”
“No, I don’t. Molestation is something else.”
“Did you learn that in counseling?”
“I never got counseling.”
“I see. So you never got counseling for what must have been a very traumatic experience?”
Stephen glanced at Brenna then his mother. “No.”
“Did the incident make you angry?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve held in that anger all the time?”
Byron stood. “Objection. Misquoting the defendant’s statement, Your Honor.”
The judge nodded. “Sustained.”
The DA turned to the jury. “Without counseling, were you able to handle the anger you’d experience then?”
“Yes.”
“You were able to deal with an older person, you trusted, basically stealing your innocence, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t that what a thief does? He steals from you.”
“Yes.” Stephen sighed. “It was a long time ago.”
“Do you still interact with that individual?”
“Sometimes.”
“Does that bother you?”
“No, and we don’t talk about it.”
“Is it true that your family doesn’t like to talk about certain things?”
Stephen nodded. “Yes.”
“So you’re in the habit of keeping things to yourself?”
“Yes. I don’t need to talk about things.”
“Still it must be stressful to meet with someone who violated you like that and have to pretend nothing happened. If that had happened to me, I’d be upset. But you’re fine about it right?”
“Yes. I said it was over,” Stephen slowly repeated his patience thinning.
“Right.” He glanced at Brenna. “Is it true that you have a disabled sister?”
“She’s not disabled. She has a limp.”
The DA smiled. “More than a limp I’d say. More like a deformity. Isn’t it true that she had a lot of surgeries while you were young?”
“Yes.”
“Did you have to look after her?”
“Yes, sometimes when she came home from the hospital.”
“Did you mind having to look after your big sister?”
“Objection,” Byron said annoyed. “Your Honor, the defense fails to see the relevance in this line of questioning.”
The DA spun around. “If the defense will give me a chance to finish—”
The judge said, “Both of you please approach the bench.”
Byron spoke first. “Your Honor, while I respect the DA’s position in this courtroom I do not see the benefit of exposing my client by discussing past molestation and his sister’s disability.”
The DA countered. “Your Honor, there is no doubt that the defendant has led a good life. That is not why he is in this courtroom. He is a man of hidden anger and I think that it is important for the jury to see the possible state of mind he was in when he visited Percy Seaborn that evening.”
The judge looked at both men then said, “Overruled.” Byron returned to his seat and the judge instructed Stephen to answer the question.
“No, I didn’t mind.”
The DA nodded. “Isn’t it true that at times you had to protect her from bullies?”
“Sometimes.”
“And is it true that there were times that you resented her?”
Stephen shifted awkward. “I was young.”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t it also true that you helped your mother? You worked odd jobs to help support the family after your father left, correct?”
“Yes, I liked to help.”
The DA nodded again. He walked to his table then turned. “It appears that it is in your nature to help people. You like helping?”
Stephen scratched the back of his neck. “Sure.”
The DA rested against the table and folded his arms. “Always?”
Stephen shrugged. “Sure.”
“Even when you don’t have a choice?”
“Yes.”
The DA slowly approached the stand and rested a hand there. “Stephen, I think you’re a decent young man and I do believe that you like to help people. I also believe you graciously helped Percy Seaborn pay for his groceries and when you saw his house thought that you could help him fix it up a bit. I believe you did go back to his house to talk about improvements and stayed later because he was sociable and you liked him. You both went out for drinks then returned to the house. You could have left, but you decided to stay for your own reasons. I think you discovered him stealing from you then.
Am I right so far?”
“Pretty much.”
“Isn’t it true that at that moment you got angry?”
“No.”
“The memory of all the times you’ve been taken advantage of and betrayed came forth in a rage and you killed him?”
Stephen’s voice remained soft. “No, I didn’t kill him.”
“But he did steal from you, breaking your trust?”
“Yes, but it was no big deal.”
“And what did you do when you found him swiping your credit card?”
“I stopped him.”
“By hitting him.”
Byron jumped to his feet. “Objection.”
“I withdraw the statement. How did you stop him?”
“I got up and left,” Stephen said.
The DA raised his hands surprised. “That’s all?”
“Yes.”
“A strong young man like you. You just got up and calmly left?”
“Yes.”
“A man takes your credit card and basically steals all your private information, a man you trusted, considered perhaps a friend. You just left. You didn’t get upset?” the DA said with disbelief.
“I didn’t kill him.”
“You just left.”
“Yes.”
“In a hurry.”
Byron jumped to his feet again. “Objection calls for speculation.”
The judge agreed. “Sustained. I won’t warn you again, Counselor.”
The DA addressed the judge. “No further questions.”
The judge looked at Byron. “Would you like to re-direct?”
“Yes, Your Honor.” Byron approached the stand inside knowing the risk he’d taken by putting Stephen on the stand, but determined to make his strategy work. He could see Stephen was tense, but he was handling things well. “Could you explain why you choose to help Seaborn?”
“Because he looked like he needed it. No one really paid attention to him at the grocery store and when I saw his house; I knew I had the skills to help.”
“When you found out what Seaborn was up to did you two argue?”
“No.”
“Would you say you have a temper?”
“No more than average. I’m pretty easy going.”
“Were you teased in school because of your sister?”
“Yes.”
“Did it make you angry?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t it true that there was an incident where a kid tripped you in the hall and you fell and got a bloodied nose?”