I managed to hold it together long enough for the judge to call a recess for the morning, long enough to excuse myself to the restroom, but as soon as I closed the bathroom stall behind me, tears spilled down my cheeks.

A sob tore through me, and I covered my mouth. My shoulders shook and tears streamed down my cheeks. I thought I could handle seeing Josh up there on the witness stand, tears staining his own cheeks as he told his side of the story, but I couldn’t. Every time I had looked at him, I had seen Jake. Except Jake had never gotten a chance to tell his story. That was the real reason I never called defendants as witnesses … it reminded me too much of the past, brought up memories I still couldn’t deal with.

I jumped when I heard the bathroom door open and the click of shoes coming toward my stall.

“Olivia?” Jameson’s voice whispered from the other side of the door. I wiped my tears quickly and tried to check my makeup in the stainless-steel door. “Olivia, I know you’re in there.”

I undid the lock and pulled the door open.

“This is the ladies room.”

“And I’m feeling extra feminine today,” he smirked. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I lied.

“You’ve been in here for almost forty-five minutes,” he said. Had I really? I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked the time.

“Jesus,” I muttered under my breath when I realized I’d been hiding in the bathroom, sobbing like a child, for nearly an hour.

“What was that about?” Jameson asked. I took a few steps forward and leaned against the sink, watching my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were swollen and red, nearly all my makeup gone.

“Jake,” I said, turning back around to face Jameson. He looked puzzled.

“You’re going to have to elaborate a little.”

“Jake,” I said again. “My high-school boyfriend who hung himself in prison after being convicted of a murder he didn’t commit.”

“Yes, I remember who Jake is, but what does that have to do with Josh?” The bathroom door swung open, and a woman with gray hair came inside. She gasped and stopped in her tracks when she saw Jameson.

“Can we have a little privacy?” he snipped. She glared at him, but turned and left.

“This is the ladies room,” she muttered under her breath before the door swung closed again. Jameson walked over and turned the deadbolt before he joined me back by the sink. I was staring at my shoes, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Olivia,” he prodded. “You can tell me.” He already knew the story, so there was no point in keeping my feelings to myself any longer.

“Jake never got to testify at his trial,” I said with some finality, as if that explained my tears. Jameson waved a hand out in front of him, signaling for me to continue. “He wanted to, but the piece of shit public defender wouldn’t take the chance, wouldn’t take the risk and let Jake testify. It could have saved his life. Jake would still be here if he’d been able to testify,” I choked, another sob threatening to push its way out.

“There is no possible way to know that,” Jameson said.

“I know,” I said. “I heard Jake tell his story, more than once, and he could’ve swayed the jury. But he never even got the chance. He begged for the opportunity, but his attorney shut him down. Everything would be different if he’d been allowed to testify.”

I took a deep breath and let it out. I was trying to keep my emotions in check, but tears spilled down my cheeks again. I shook my head and let out a cold laugh.

“You know what’s worse?” I asked, but Jameson just shrugged. “I almost did that to Josh. I tried to keep him from testifying, too.”

“He wasn’t exactly begging us for a chance to take the witness stand,” Jameson said. Putting Josh on the stand was a good move; there wasn’t a dry eye in the courtroom when he’d finished his testimony. Even the normally stoic Davidson had been emotional.

“It doesn’t matter. I didn’t want him to, I didn’t want to take that risk. And then what if something happened to him? That would be on me,” I said. “I’d be no better than Jake’s public defender.”

I looked down, staring at my shoes again. Jameson grabbed my face and forced me to look at him.

“Olivia. What happened to Jake isn’t your fault. It was twenty years ago, there is nothing more you could have done, so you have to quit comparing every case you have to Jake, you have to quit trying to fix the past with the cases you work now,” Jameson said gently. “You are ten times the attorney that public defender was. You throw yourself into these cases and do everything you can to win for the people you represent.”

I tried to pull my face out of his grasp, tried to shake my head. He didn’t understand. It wasn’t that easy to let go. With every case I won, I felt like I had done a little to make up for what had happened to Jake, but when I lost, it was a spiral of self-loathing and blame for everything.

“Look at me,” Jameson commanded. “Listen to me. You were a kid. It was an accident—an unfortunate accident. Nothing you say or do now will make any difference, except make you crazy with grief and blame and self-doubt. Those things won’t make you a better lawyer, those things won’t help your clients now. They will only make you doubt yourself and your skills.”

Another tear spilled down my cheek and Jameson wiped it away with his thumb.

“He could still be here,” I protested again.

“Then where would you be? A housewife in Louisiana? A painter maybe? I can almost guarantee you wouldn’t be here, making the impact you are.” I opened my mouth to argue again, but Jameson kept going. “It’s done. It’s in the past, and you have to let it go.”

“I don’t know if I can,” I whispered. It had been a part of me for so long. Everything about my life now was because of what had happened with Jake and Amanda. My career, my home, my name ... hell, even my love life was the way it was because I’d let the events of twenty years ago dictate the choices I made.

“You got me to give up being the lead on this case,” he smirked. “I think you can do anything.” Jameson kissed me gently on the lips. It wasn’t deep or feverish, but I felt that kiss all the way to my bones.

There was a knock on the door, breaking up the moment we were having. Jameson pulled away and finally let his hands drop from my face.

“Let’s go before someone calls security on us,” Jameson said.

“You go. I’m going to fix my makeup, but I’ll be right out.” Jameson raised an eyebrow at me. “Five minutes, I promise.”

I pulled a compact out of my purse and dabbed at my cheeks until they didn’t look like rivers of black had been running down them. Then I dug around for a tube of mascara and touched up my lashes. When I was done, I stared at my reflection and thought about Jameson.

I had been trying so hard to keep him at a distance, to make sure our relationship was sex and work and nothing else. What had been so easy in the past was becoming a struggle. My heart squeezed a little at the thought of Jameson and the look on his face when he’d seen me crying. It was a look of compassion, of understanding, and something else, something a lot like love. I didn’t want to admit I had feelings for Jameson, but I couldn’t deny it any longer.

I jumped when Jameson stuck his head back in the door of the bathroom.

“Your time is up, Ms. Roberts,” he chuckled. I put my makeup back in my purse and pushed my thoughts to the side.

“Oh? Am I a criminal on a strict time schedule now?” I said, my heels clicking on the floor as I made my way across the bathroom. “Do you have handcuffs for me?” I held my hands out in mock surrender.

“No, but that can be arranged,” Jameson purred, his voice sending shivers down my spine. “Have you been a bad girl, Olivia?”

“I think I have, Mr. Beck,” I said meekly, playing along with his game. “Are you going to punish me?”

“Fuck,” he growled. “If we didn’t have an afternoon full of closing arguments ahead of us, I’d take you right here on the bathroom floor.”

And just like that we were back to normal, all the emotions and tender feelings from before were discarded, sex and lust and desire left in their place. But they weren’t completely gone. The seeds had been planted, and maybe one day they could grow into something real.