Page 73 of Love Rewritten

That never takes any convincing. She smiles and turns right back around, disappearing into the bedroom. She’s almost done braiding her hair when she walks out of the bathroom. We slip into our shoes, helmets, and gloves without talking, and when we make our way out to the bikes, they fire up with ease.

“You lead. Go wherever your mind tells you to.” She nods and gets on, taking off and out of the parking lot so quickly I have to race to catch up to her.

She winds through twists and turns, up and down hills. I haven’t seen her ride with so much eagerness before. When she said this was her wind therapy, her happy place, I believed it, but now, I can really see it more than I have before. Through her Cardo, she blasts the music loudly. There’s no room for talking. I’ll let her have this in any way she needs it.

After getting off the highway, she slows as we approach a red light in a nearby town. I flip my visor up as I stop, watching her carefully. When she stops, I see her visibly take a deep breath, her back rising and falling with the movement. She flips her visor up. She smiles over at me so much that I see the smile in her eyes, crinkling at the corners. She puts the bike in neutral after realizing this light will take a while and turns down the music.

“Good?” I ask, putting my bike in neutral as well.

She nods, her helmet bobbing with the movement. “Good.”

“How do you feel?”

“Free,” she says. “I didn’t realize I needed this.”

“I hear you.”

If only I could bring this feeling with us to court.

Chapter 27

Abby

Thecourthouseisbusytoday. People wander the halls in every direction. I’m thankful that Trisha is letting us hide in her office for a while. We met with her a week ago, and then yesterday to prepare for today. All of the information is overwhelming. It’s too much for me to keep up with. We went over the questions she’s prepared to ask me, but the more daunting part is that there’s no way to prepare for the defendant’s questions. I just have to be honest. Sam opted for a bench trial instead of a jury. Trisha said that should help our case. Fewer people to convince he’s guilty, and a judge is far better at only looking at the evidence and not letting their bias get in the way. That helped ease my nerves, even if only a little.

I’d asked why he opted out of a jury trial. Trisha said he likely wanted fewer eyes on him, fewer people to know who he was and what he’d done. She did warn me that, based on everything she knows about Sam, this could be an acrimonious case, so I should prepare myself. I agree with her, but I’m not sure how much more I can prepare for this.

Even knowing we have a good chance at winning, knowing it’s mostly an open-shut case … I still can’t get over my nerves. It’s all collecting in my gut, and I’m trying really hard not to empty the contents of my stomach into the trash can next to her desk.

She left us here for a while to get our bearings. If everything starts on time, it shouldn’t be more than another thirty minutes. And that’s terrifying. I don’t want to go into that courtroom. I don’t want to have to tell a judge about everything I’ve been through. I don’t want to answer any questions I may not know the answers to. And I certainly don’t want to see Sam again.

But I don’t have a choice in the matter. Just like I didn’t have a choice while I was in a relationship with Sam. That’s what this feels like. Similar fear. Similar pain. Similar torture.

Even through all of this, I feel bad for Dallas, who can’t do anything but stand by and watch. He’ll be questioned today, too, but he’s mentioned more than once that he wishes he could do more. I keep telling him he’s done more than enough, more than I ever could have asked for.

But he’s stubborn.

Just like me, I suppose.

The thought causes a breathy laugh to leave my lungs, and Dallas gives me a weird look from his seat next to me. Hearing me laugh is certainly not on his list of occurrences he ever thought he’d see today. “I’m not saying you can’t laugh. In fact, I’d rather hear you laugh, but is everything okay?”

Just as he answered me last week, I say, “Yes and no.” He leans back in his chair and waits for me to continue. “Yes, because I was just thinking about how stubborn we both are. It made me laugh.” I look over at him to see a smirk playing on his lips. And then I take a deep breath and say, “And no, because of what’s about to happen.”

“Both are fair statements.” He turns his chair toward me, the legs scraping against the floor beneath us in an unpleasant screech. He cringes at the sound, adjusting the collar of his navy button-up. “Sorry.” I laugh at the face he makes, and he continues, his smile faltering a bit. “Just remember, you’re not going through this alone. You obviously have my mom and me, but Meredith, Rose, and Logan all took the day off to support you and already said they’d be in the gallery the whole time.”

I take a deep breath, forcing his words to stick in my head, forcing them into my lungs, into my bloodstream, and willing them to calm me from the inside out. “I know. It all just feels a bit surreal.”

“I hear you,” he says, sitting back in his chair. “Do you feel prepared?”

I look down at the papers in my hand, mostly just personal notes for myself. Trisha has everything else. “Nope, but I’m not sure there’s much more we can do. It’s a little late to do anything further.”

“True.” He looks like he’s been beaten down, maybe as much as I feel. It’s been a long few months. I feel like I’ve both just met Dallas and have known him for years. When you click with someone, I think that’s how it’s supposed to feel. All of it all at once, yet so slowly at the same time. It’s a weird sensation.

A knock sounds on the door and Trisha pokes her head in. She smiles and presses the door open all the way.Fuck.Has it been half an hour already? I’m not ready for this, not that I have a choice. That damn subpoena.

“They’re getting ready. We should head down. Sam is being kept in a side room. You won’t see him until we go in.”

I clench my jaw to keep a string of curses from leaving my mouth. Dallas reaches over, takes both of my hands in his, and squeezes. “You’ll be good. He can’t hurt you.”

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