The Road to Rose Bend, Naima Simone [jenna bush book club .TXT] 📗

Instead, he had been there for her. If she’d known, if she’d had the slightest clue, she would’ve never...

The sob that she’d managed to suppress when she’d first entered the pharmacy tore from her. Whirling around, she rushed past the two women who’d unknowingly revealed the awful truth and rushed out of the store.

She didn’t stop until she reached her car, started it and peeled out of the parking lot.

Cole.

She had to get to Cole.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

COLE PERCHED ON the end of his desk, glaring down at the sullen teen slouched in the chair in front of him. Trevor Haynes, with his dirty blond hair, green eyes and tall, lean figure, was a good-looking kid. He would be even more so without the petulant gleam in his eyes and the sulky set of his mouth. Insolence damn near leaked out of his pores, and Cole grit his teeth against yanking him straight in that chair. At least if he was in his law office instead of here at city hall, he could yell. But he had a town council meeting in thirty minutes, so he had to forgo the loud telling-off.

“Can we make this quick, Cole?” Trevor grumbled. “I got shit to do.”

“Watch your mouth,” Cole snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. “And it’s Mr. Dennison to you. At sixteen, you’re not a grown man, but you’re almost there. And when you’re honorable enough to keep your word and make responsible decisions like a man, then you can call me Cole. Until then, you haven’t earned it.”

The teen flinched but tried to cover it by slouching farther into the chair.

“Fine, Mr. Dennison,” he muttered. “Mom’s expecting me home by six.”

“I know exactly what time she’s expecting you since she and I discussed your new curfew.”

“You did what?” he snarled, shooting up in the chair and gripping the arms. He scowled at Cole. “You had no right—”

“No right?” Cole repeated softly. “Are you forgetting who went to bat for you and got your felony larceny of a motor vehicle charge down to a joyriding misdemeanor?”

“Mom paid for you to be my lawyer. That was your job,” Trevor sneered.

“Listen up, Trevor,” Cole said, praying for the patience of Job. “Your mother works at the Sunnyside Grille, sometimes double shifts, to make sure you have food in your stomach and a roof over your ungrateful head. Yet, she took money that could’ve gone to rent, bills and your college fund, out of her pocket so she could put it toward a retainer for me. And it still wasn’t enough to cover what I charge. So yes, Trevor, she might’ve given me money, but you were more a pro bono than paid client.”

Trevor flattened his mouth into a stubborn line, but he didn’t say anything.

“And a detective who knows you’re my client decided to call me instead of arresting you and turning you in with the rest of that pot-smoking bunch of asses you call friends. The same bunch that got you in trouble last time—”

“I wasn’t—”

“Why do you think you’re sitting here with me right now instead of being bailed out by your mother?” Cole barked. “But you were there, and technically, you could’ve been arrested along with the rest of them. Given you’re not, I figure that gives me a right and a vested interest in what you do.”

A thick silence filled the office. Trevor didn’t meet Cole’s eyes, but studied the scuffed toes of his sneakers.

“I’m sorry.” The apology, although gruff and mumbled, sounded sincere. “I didn’t think. I...” He blew out a hard breath and crossed his arms tightly over his chest. “And thank you. For...everything.”

Cole stifled a sigh, along with the urge to clap a hand on the boy’s shoulder and pull him into a hug he undoubtedly thought he was too grown for. But with his father, a mean drunk who’d possessed an allergy to work, having abandoned him and his mother years earlier, and his mother working long hours to make ends meet, Trevor had missed out on the positive influence of a man in his life. These last two brushes with the law had the teen toeing a thin but pivotal line. He could go either way at this point—to the college his mother was scrimping and saving for or the jail he’d managed to avoid. So far. He was a good, smart kid. A hardworking kid who fiercely adored his mother and had gotten a job at a gas station as soon as he turned sixteen. But his mother and Cole could only do so much. Trevor had to pick a path. Now, not later. And fight to remain on it.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Cole warned, pushing off the desk and rounding it. He slid his hands into his front pockets. “When you’re not at Mr. Wilson’s gas station, then you’re going to be out at Kinsale Inn, working with my brother Wolf. I’ve already cleared it by him. And when you’re not at either of those places, you’ll be home. By six. You have a problem with that?”

“Are you kid—”

Cole nodded and smiled. “Just what I thought. You don’t have any problems. Especially since the only alternative is juvie.”

“Then no, I guess I don’t have any problems,” Trevor drawled.

“Right.” Cole made a show of glancing down at his wristwatch. “You have about twenty-five minutes to make it home before curfew. Make sure you bring your school and work schedule by my office sometime tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.” He shoved to his feet and finally met Cole’s gaze. “And again...thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Trevor,” Cole murmured.

The teen didn’t waste time crossing the room to the door and pulling it open. And almost plowing into the woman standing on the other side.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had someone with you,” Sydney said, lowering the arm she held midair as if prepared to knock. “I can come back later.”

“No, you’re good,” Cole assured her. “We’re just finishing up here.”

“Excuse me,” Trevor muttered, stepping around