Page 35 of Only Fate

“Good afternoon,” I reply at the same time the front screen door opens with a slight creak.

A guy who looks to be around my age, wearing faded jeans and a tee, steps outside and joins us.

He smiles in my direction. “Adrian, right?”

I nod.

“I’m Foster, Terrance’s grandson.” He holds up his hand as if to stop me before I ask a question. “Not the one who ran over your grandmother’s petunias. That’d be my asshole brother.”

He laughs, extending his hand in my direction, and I shake it.

Tucker plods over to Foster, using his nose to nudge his knee, and Foster pets him.

My abuela gestures toward the patio furniture on the other side of the door. “You two have a seat and get to know each other. Adrian, you’re staying for dinner.”

Foster congratulates me on taking over Terrance’s firm. I was unsure how his family would react to him giving me the practice. It’s relieving to see Foster being so cool about it.

“Tomorrow night is the grand opening of Down Home Brewery’s second location in Anchor Ridge,” Foster says. “I’m stopping by. You should come, meet people, network.”

“That sounds good,” I reply.

Maybe Essie will be there.

That’s what my life has become.

Going to places in hopes that Essie is there.

“So, Paula, how is everything going at the Prison Exoneration Program?” Terrance asks my mother from across the dinner table.

The Prison Exoneration Program—PEP for short—is acriminal justice nonprofit my mother cofounded with an attorney she went to law school with. The PEP works to release wrongly convicted individuals. She’s always wanted me to follow in her footsteps at the nonprofit, but I want more experience. The PEP holds people’s innocence in their hands, and I’d never want to let anyone down.

My mother sets down her fork and wipes her mouth before answering, “Last week, we won a case for a man who had been in prison for sixteen years for a murder he hadn’t committed.” She sighs, and there’s that familiar sadness in her eyes when she talks about her cases. “Sixteen years of his life wasted because prosecutors wanted to point their fingers at the easiest guy they could blame.”

She’s shared plenty of her cases with me, and honestly, it’s fucked up. I can’t imagine getting locked up for a crime I hadn’t committed—to suffer the consequences of someone else’s actions.

A few times, she’s come to me for advice and questions. I love that she trusts me enough to help her with something so important.

“If you ever want to throw a case my way, I’ll definitely help,” I tell her.

“I appreciate that, and I’ll most likely take you up on that offer.” Her gaze returns to Terrance. “Not that I’ll take him away from putting everything he has into your practice, of course.”

Terrance repeatedly shakes his head while running his fingers over his gray mustache. “Oh, no, no. I wouldn’t mind him helping at all. I think your organization does great things.”

She thanks him and takes a sip of her red wine.

We make small talk for the rest of dinner, and Foster says he’ll text me the info about the brewery opening.

“Goodbye, my sweet great-granddog,” my abuela sings out to Tucker.

She gives him head kisses, and he returns a slobbery one on her cheek.

15

Tonight is the grand opening of Down Home Brewery’s second location in Anchor Ridge.

An old Johnny Cash song plays in the background when I walk inside. This building is larger than the one in Blue Beech, but Jax and Chris went safe the first time.

Customers are mingling and drinking.

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