Page 80 of After Everything
"Then I don't know what to do with that information."
"Fair enough." She stood up. "Okay, here's what you're going to do today. You're going to take a shower, because you're disgusting. Then you're going to eat actualfood. Then you're going to do something, anything, that has nothing to do with David or feelings or any of this."
"Jess—"
"I'm serious. Give your brain a break. Watch trashy TV. Read a book. Organize your closet. Whatever. But stop trying to solve this right now." She headed for the door, then paused. "And Emma? For what it's worth? There's no wrong answer here. Whatever you decide, whether it's giving him another chance or walking away for good, it's your choice. Your timeline. Your life."
After she left, I sat on the couch for a long time, still in my sweaty running clothes, staring at nothing.
My phone was on the coffee table. I picked it up. Opened my contacts. Scrolled to his name.
David Harrison.
I'd deleted his number three years ago. Blocked him on everything. But his contact had come back when we'd started working together on cases. Professional necessity, nothing more.
I stared at his name for a long moment.
Then I closed the app and set the phone face-down on the table.
Not today.
But not never either.
And that was the most terrifying realization of all.
CHAPTER 26: EMMA
The call came at 4:47 PM on a Tuesday, thirteen minutes before I was supposed to leave for the day.
"Emma?" Jessica's voice through my office phone had that particular edge that meant trouble. "I have a lawyer on the line. Says he has a client who needs an emergency exam for a restraining order hearing tomorrow morning. I told him we're closing soon, but he's?—"
"It's fine. Put him through."
I was already pulling up the scheduling system, scanning for any possible gaps. My last patient had left twenty minutes ago. I'd been using the quiet to catch up on charts,looking forward to going home, taking a long bath, maybe ordering Thai food and pretending the past two weeks hadn't happened.
Two weeks since the coffee shop. Two weeks since I'd told David I didn't know what we were. Two weeks of trying very hard not to think about him and failing spectacularly every single time.
The line clicked.
"Ms. Peterson…? Emma. This is David Harrison."
My hand froze on the mouse.
Of course it was.
"I apologize for the short notice," he continued, professional and clipped. "But I have a client, Angela Torres, who needs medical documentation for a hearing at nine AM tomorrow. Her husband assaulted her last night. She reported it, but she needs a medical exam to support the restraining order petition."
I took a breath. Forced my voice steady. "What happened?"
"He shoved her down the stairs. She has visible bruising on her arms and back,possible fractured ribs. She went to the ER last night, but they only did basic treatment and X-rays. I need someone who can document everything properly, write the kind of report a judge will take seriously."
"And she can't come in tomorrow morning?"
"The hearing is at nine. We'd need the exam done tonight so I can include the documentation in the motion I'm filing first thing." A pause. "I know it's late. I know you're probably about to leave. But Emma—" He caught himself. "Ms. Torres. She's terrified. Her husband is a cop. If this restraining order doesn't go through, she's not safe."
Her husband is a cop.
That explained why she needed everything perfect, every detail documented, every procedure followed exactly. Cops knew how to work the system. Knew how to make victims look unreliable. This woman needed ammunition.
