I climbed out of the shower and slowly began drying myself off.

Something about a good rinse after an intense confrontation always helped to cleanse me, to somehow strip away all the negative energy those incidents always left clinging to me made me feel. I didn’t need to wash my hair, or anything, just rinse. Something about it always seemed to help, even if it was just a little bit.

As I toweled off, I couldn’t help but think of Matthew, of that hurt look in his eyes when I’d left the office. Like Lacy had kept telling me on the ride home, I knew he hadn’t intended to strengthen the case against my Uncle Zeke. And I knew he hadn’t meant to hurt me, either.

Clearly, my former student knew there was some chemistry between me and Matthew Jones. Even though I knew she was trying to hide her knowledge from me, it came through just as clearly as it probably did on my end.

Mafia or no mafia, all those problems with death threats and having to hide in safe houses would disappear when the DA changed his mind about dropping the charges against Uncle Zeke. After all, my talking to the cops was a moot point. I could talk until I was blue in the face, but all the evidence clearly pointed to my uncle as having been the perpetrator. Soon enough, all my old problems would come rolling right back in like the tide. More like a tsunami, actually, taking all the good things I’d built for my life back out to sea.

What I needed was a spiritual purge.

A way to get my mind off my failure. Failure with Uncle Zeke’s case, failure with my spoiled summer vacation. And, of course, failure with Matthew Jones. Somehow, the third one almost stung the most. I knew we’d had something there. Something real. Something for the story books, where I’d get to live happily ever after.

But that had gone and gotten screwed up, too. Now when I closed my eyes and thought of him, my mind associated him with Uncle Zeke sitting in prison with some cell mate, wearing an orange jumpsuit. In my head, prison tattoos covered his arms, his face gaunt and shriveled as he slowly wasted away.

All because I couldn’t separate Matthew from the case. All because I couldn’t reconcile Matthew having to do his job no matter what the consequences were, and following the evidence and leads wherever they took him.

I brushed the quickly beading tears with the heel of my hand and sniffled a little as I tried to shove those thoughts out of my mind. This wasn’t getting me anywhere.

Spiritual purge, I reminded myself. That’s what I needed. A bottle of wine, a box of chocolates. Some binge-worthy Netflix show, like Friends or something, where I could just turn my brain off and not have to think about all this until the sun came up tomorrow morning.

But, as I tossed my towel onto its rack and pulled an old t-shirt and fresh PJs on, I sucked in a sharp breath and cocked my head to the side.

A noise, out in my living room, had caught my attention.

Someone was in the house.

I slowly creaked open the bathroom door and quietly slipped into my bedroom. I glanced around, looking for my cell phone, but remembered I’d left it out in the kitchen on the charger. For the first time, I regretted cutting the chord on my old landline.

“Becks?” called a voice. “You out of the shower yet?”

It was just Derrick.

I breathed a sigh of relief and went to the bedroom door, calling, “I’m in the bedroom. Out in just a second!”

I changed out of my PJs and slipped into some old, torn up jeans. I hadn’t exactly been expecting company when I’d sent the text message to him about the change in evidence, about how the day wasn’t saved after all with Uncle Zeke. But Derrick and I had known each other forever. He could always tell when I needed a friend around, a shoulder to cry on.

Bustling out of my bedroom, I joined him in the living room. As I passed by the kitchen, I glanced over and saw a bottle of wine and a six-pack of beer sitting side-by-side on the counter, just like brother and sister.

“Hey,” he said, getting up from the couch, his face twisted in pain as he opened his arms to me. “Sorry to hear about Zeke.”

I allowed myself to be enfolded by his warm embrace and laid my head against his shoulder. I fought back the tears immediately trying to return. “Should’ve known it was too good to be true. Too cut and dry.”

“I know, lady, I know,” Derrick said, rubbing my shoulders. He pulled back from the hug and held me at arm’s length as he looked down at me. “It sucks. But maybe we can figure out something else to help him out?”

“Like what?”

“Off the top of my head?” he asked. “I have no fucking clue. At all.”

I chuckled and shook my head despite my tears. I collapsed onto the couch, right next to where he’d been sitting. He sat back down and I snuggled up against him like he was my long lost big brother. I laid my head on his shoulder as he put an arm around me and pulled me into him.

“What else is there?” I asked. “Frost Security was my last hope. They were so good, they found enough evidence to get him off. Unfortunately, they were too good. Found evidence of his guilt that the cops hadn’t even managed to dig up.”

“Well, maybe someone planted it on there? Like those mafia guys you were talking about?”

“Maybe. But, I mean, how far-fetched is that? They snuck into his house and fiddled around on his computer and planted the evidence, all so they could frame him for burning down his own building. I mean, that’s just crazy.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed as squeezed my shoulder, “that does sound a little out there.” He paused and licked his lips. He looked like he was about to say something, but then shook his head.

“What?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing.”

“No, you were going to say something. What was it?”

“Well,” he said slowly, clearly searching for the right words at first. But when they didn’t come, he just took a deep breath and glanced away from me, as if he was trying to avoid my gaze. “Okay. So, this going to sound crazy, but…”

“…but?”

“Have you considered that, maybe, he really did do it?”

I sighed. “I don’t know. I mean, yeah, of course I have.” I sat up a little from his arm, and pulled my legs up to my chest and readjusted the way I was seated on the couch. “I’m human, Derrick. I have doubts. But I still believed him. Still believe him. That’s why I went and hired Matthew in the first place. I have to believe Uncle Zeke didn’t do it, you know? I have to.”

“Why, though? I mean, people do fucked up things, Becks. No one’s perfect. Ever.”

He was right to a degree, and his words struck home. But with Uncle Zeke it was different. He wasn’t just any man, he was the man who’d saved me from a miserable life, who had helped me pick up the pieces of my existence before I even knew what that meant. He never hurt me, hindered me, or tried to belittle me. It was always about healing and hope and moving forward with him.

“Because,” I began, “if I start to believe that Uncle Zeke did do it, everything about my life gets called into question, you know? It’s like if you found out Superman was really a bad guy after all these years. That he was just lulling all of humanity into a false sense of security so he could come crushing down on us at the end, or just let Lex Luthor put all his evil plans into motion. How wrong would that be? How awful would we all feel?”

“Yeah,” he said, giving me a little half-smirk as he nodded, “I think I understand. Having your whole life crashing down around your head. It’s just awful. Wake up one day, and it’s all just changed or over.”

I frowned a little as I squeezed in closer to him and put my arms around his chest. At least, even with the world being as bleak as it was, I still had Derrick. I might not have been able to count on anything, whether it was Matthew protecting me and being by my side on this, or Zeke being pure as the driven snow.

But no matter what happened, whether it was the guy I cared about most, even after such a short amount of time, betraying my trust or my uncle still being accused of burning down his store, I always knew Derrick would show up to help carry me through. He always showed up when I called.

After all, that’s what best friends were for.