Page 99 of Breaking His Law

My next words jolt nervously from my throat. “I was fifteen when it happened. My sister, Riley, and I had been at gymnastics practice. After, Mom and Dad took us to that great pizza place on Geary Boulevard to celebrate me and my sister making the finals for the state championship on Beam. Riley loved the pepperoni special that came with extra cheese and pepperoni.” I smile, remembering how it was her favorite.

Except for the gentle brush of his thumb against the skin of my stomach, as if reassuring me he’s here for me, Nathan remains as still as a statue behind me.

I close my eyes, and it takes me straight back to that night, every memory still fresh in my mind. From the sound of the engine to the pain in my shoulder, I remember it all.

And I can still smell that pungent smell of gasoline in my nostrils, something that to this very day makes me gag if I even get a faint whiff of it.

“We were out later than usual, and it was dark, foggy too. I remember Dad saying how bad it was that night.” I take my time to get my thoughts straight. “And the next thing I remember was waking up and I couldn’t move my arm. And Riley… she was outside of the car, just lying there, still in her teal leotard, and I couldn’t move. I shouted to her; I kept shouting, but she was already gone.” Tears escape my eyes, soaking the pillow below me.

“And there was this man who showed up and I begged him to help me, but he just ran off and after that I passed out from the pain in my shoulder.” I wipe my nose with the back of my hand, unable to control my tears. “I didn’t know at the time that the car was upside down and a piece of metal was lodged in my back.” As if my scar remembers, a shoot of pain radiates through it. “The report said that even though Mom and Dad were wearing their seatbelts, they died instantly from blunt force trauma and internal bleeding. But Riley”—I suck in a stuttered breath—“she… she wasn’t wearing her seatbelt, and she was thrown from the car.” I shake my head against the pillow. “I miss her.” So much. “I miss them all.” Every day.

“Baby.” He pulls me closer to him, sealing his front to my back. “I’m so sorry.”

My heart twists in my chest. I hate people feeling sorry for me. I don’t want their pity; what I want is my family.

I tell him what happened next. “With no family to care for me, after my shoulder operation I was discharged from hospital. I then went into a group home for a while, and after that I was placed in a foster home with a woman named Jean who became my foster mom. She took care of me until she died when I was twenty-one. She was older, only had one son, and her place was a rental, so when she passed away, I used some of the money I had saved from my wages to rent my own place. Although it wasn’t my place because I shared it with five other people.” It was chaos, and studying for my legal secretary certification while working full-time at Williams and Jones was exhausting.

I take my time to reply from fear of blurting out words about the role his father played in it, words I may regret. Instead, I say, “The man who killed them never went to prison. He walked free.” Kevin Taylor is dead now. He had a heart attack while on vacation with his family. I know this because I know everything about Kevin Taylor. A wealthy influential businessman who probably paid the judge and the crime scene investigators a lot of money to clear his name and hoodwinked Daniel to make him believe he was innocent. That’s the only explanation.

While my family lost their lives, he went about his without a care in the world. And I lost everyone I ever loved.

“Why was he not sentenced?” Nathan asks with his lawyer hat on, but his tone is gentle and full of concern.

“The jury and judge ruled it as an accident.”

“And you don’t believe them?” The serious timbre in his voice tells me he knows I don’t.

“I never have.” I feel unsettled every day about the verdict.

“I can investigate the case again. I would do that for you, Arianna.”

I whip around in his arms as panic swirls through my veins. I don’t want him to know it was his father who defended Kevin Taylor. Not until I find out the truth. “Promise me you won’t dothat.” I stare up into his worried face. “I don’t think I’m ready to know.” It’s a slight twist on the truth, because if I’m right then what happens to us? I lose him too; I just know it. And I’ve only just found him.

What a mess.

I blink repeatedly, a chill running down my spine at the thought of not speaking to him every day. Nathan Hart. The man who stepped into my heart and made a home there. Every smile, every touch, every moment with him feels like he’s healing my heart and my soul. Every day with him gets easier and more incredible. And now, the thought of never seeing him again feels impossible, like asking the sun not to rise or the stars not to shine. It would tear me apart. Losing him is my worst fear and one I hope I never have to face. We belong together, and I’ll hold on to him for as long as I can. Forever preferably.

“Okay,” he agrees. “But if you ever change your mind, just ask.”

A wedge of emotion fills my throat. “Thank you.” I reach up and cup his face with my hand and brush my thumb across the scruff of his beard.

“I hate seeing you sad, baby.” He kisses the tip of my nose and wipes away the tears that have run down my temples.

“Sometimes when I catch a glimpse of my scar, it reignites memories of the accident and reminds me of what I lost. I think that’s why I don’t like you touching it.” I don’t like touching it myself. “It’s a tragic, permanent connection to their deaths, and my scar may be healed, but I am not. I never will be.” That hurts my heart to say out loud.

A tremor of a smile touches his lips. “Your scar shows strength and survival. You overcame unimaginable loss. You’re a testament to your family. Strong, and talented. The job you do now makes a difference to people’s lives. We do, together.”

I’ve never seen it that way before and my lips tremble at his heartfelt observation.

“Does it hurt? Your shoulder?” Using his head, he gestures to my back.

“Not anymore, but I sometimes still feel like there’s metal in there. It’s like phantom pain or something. And I get these weird shooting pains down my arm.”

He pulls me into his arms again and wraps me in a huge bear hug I’ve come to love.

“I watch you sometimes clenching your fist and stretching out your shoulder,” he admits.

“I think I do that out of habit more than anything else. But my physical therapist thinks I might have issues with compressed nerves in my shoulder, which means I sometimes get this electric shock sensation down my arm and into my fingers.”

---