Page 113 of Broken Pieces

Chapter Forty-Three

Raelynn

Brooks holds tightly to my hand as we enter the courtroom. It’s been six weeks since Logan almost killed us both. And today is the day the jury is revealing the verdict.

I never told anyone about the box I had stolen from Logan. I accidentally found it one day and although I didn’t know exactly where the contents of the box had been used, I knew it was something that would indict him.

It turned out the gun inside the box had been used in an armed robbery and murder of an old woman. There was random jewelry in the box which Logan had been slowly pawning to buy drugs. I knew nothing about the crime when it happened. The sad part was we had been dating when it happened.

Brooks and I take our seat near the back of the courtroom. We both had to testify last week, but I don’t want Logan to see me. I’ll watch him get sent to prison, but I don’t want to see that sly grin he wore the entire time I testified against him.

He was the biggest mistake of my life. But over the last few weeks, Brooks has taught me to learn from it. Just another way he’s healed all my broken pieces. I don’t look back and regret the relationship I had with Logan. I learned that it made me a strong woman who could stand up for herself and not let the past tear her down.

Brooks presses a kiss to my cheek as he rests his hand on my thigh and squeezes, our universal sign for being there when we need each other. A police officer escorts Logan into the courtroom. He doesn’t see me, but I can tell he is looking for me with the way his eyes search the crowd. The bailiff announces the entrance of the judge and we all rise.

I tap my fingers along the top of Brooks’ hand as we await the reading of the verdict.

“Breathe, Blue. He is going to prison. No doubt about it.”

I look at Brooks, his whiskey eyes burning into mine, and I relax. He has a power over me I cannot control, not that I want to. He was right when he said we were the perfect storm. Not because we destroy but because the two of us together create something so magnificent, no words can describe, no photo could capture the essence of the love we share.

The judge announces the verdict, but I keep my eyes on Brooks the entire time. My anchor in the storm. Logan is found guilty for the robbery and murder of the old woman as well as attempted murder on Brooks and drug possession. I sigh in relief. He wasn’t found guilty of kidnapping me, but it’s enough. The judge announces the sentencing for next week, but I don’t care. The lawyers said to us if he was found guilty of at least half the charges he would spend life in prison.

He gets pulled away by the prison guards and I don’t even care to watch. I don’t need to see his face again.

Brooks pulls me out of the courtroom and rushes for the doors of the courthouse. There are a few reporters outside since this is the biggest piece of news to come out of White Creek, but we rush past them. We both have nothing more to say. What’s done is done and it’s in the past and all we want to look forward to is the future.

I climb into the truck and flip the dial of the radio before Brooks can put on one of his podcasts.

“Hey, there was a new podcast released today I wanted to hear,” he says as I flip through the stations.

“And later tonight Mac is coming over so we can record our second one.”

Brooks looks over at me and smiles. “I knew you would be into it.”

I sigh and roll my eyes. “The only reason I got into it was because I had to listen to you two idiots talk about some damn conspiracy on the moon landing for three hours while we were supposed to be playing a game of pool.”

“And you joined in on the conversation and spent another hour talking about it with us. Including looking up information on your phone.”

“Fine. I was slightly into it.”

Brooks laughs. “Oh Blue, you were more than into it.”

“Whatever.”

* * *

When we get home, I start dinner so we can eat before we record. I turn on my British pop playlist and dance along as I cook.

I dump the cooked pasta through a strainer when I hear singing in the background. I stop what I am doing and walk toward the guest bedroom we use to record podcasts. I stand in the doorway while I watch Brooks set everything up. And sure enough, I hear him singing Ed fucking Sheeran.

It takes him a minute to realize I am standing in the doorway watching him, the biggest smile taking up my face. When he sees me, he freezes, and I start cracking up. “Are you really singing Ed Sheeran?”

“Maybe,” he says nonchalantly.

I just stand there grinning at him.

“What?”

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