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Taryn
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I sit in the courtroom, gripping the tissue so tight between my fingers that it’s mere shreds by now. I need to listen to the jury foreman read the decision, but part of me doesn’t want to. I want to crawl inside a hole and pretend this is all a dream I’m about to wake up from. Warm in my bed in my dorm room, my college roommate waking me up with her hair dryer and her usual loud morning routine. But I’m not asleep, I’m awake, sitting on a hard, cold wooden bench in a Boulder County, Colorado courtroom, waiting to hear if my brother is going to be at our family’s next holiday celebration, or if I’ll be bringing him a tin of our mother’s famous Christmas cookies in prison.
“Will the defendant please rise?” the bailiff announces.
I watch as my brother stands, wearing the blue shirt, black tie, and dark slacks I’d had to go to his townhouse and pull from his closet for him in anticipation of this trial. His attorney stands along with him, his brow pinched in worry, which offers me no comfort at all.
I swallow the lump in my throat, not caring that my mother’s hand is gripping mine so tight that it feels like she’s going to crush my delicate hand bones. I glance past her to see my brother’s best friend, Carter Lockwood, sitting at the end of the bench, staring straight ahead, his sharp jaw pulsing in stress as I imagine his back molars are grinding together.
“How does the jury decide on the count of involuntary manslaughter in the first degree?”
“We, the jury, find the defendant, Eric Andrews, guilty.”
Oh, my God...
The courtroom erupts in gasps. My mother audibly sobs. I have to swallow back my own. I grip her tighter, trying to impart some comfort.
“How does the jury decide on the count of felony driving under the influence?”
“We, the jury, find the defendant, Eric Andrews, guilty.”
I look at the jury foreman. He’s probably in his fifties and looks horribly sorry as he glances at my brother, who is sagging in defeat, his face buried in his hands. I want to run to Eric. To tell him it’ll be okay. That we aren’t angry with him. That everyone makes mistakes. Unfortunately for Eric, his mistake is going to cost him a chunk of his life.
“No, please!” my mother cries, letting go of my hand to try to run to her son. “It was an accident! He didn’t mean it!” I grab her arm to keep her from running to him. A glance behind my shoulder shows a man holding a little girl in his lap, tears running down his face. I quickly turn away as his sad eyes hold mine for a brief moment. There’s nothing I can do or say that will bring back his wife or that little girl’s mom.
“Mother, stop. Let’s go,” I say quietly, ushering her forcefully out of the courtroom. I glance back one last time and mouth “I love you” to my brother as he looks at us with grief-filled eyes that reflect his heavy soul. Two deputies approach him, and I watch as one puts handcuffs on him behind his back. Eric gives up no resistance and hangs his head as he’s escorted quietly out of the courtroom.
“Sentencing hearing one week from today. Court is adjourned,” the judge says, pounding his gavel.
Outside the courtroom, there are reporters and other people milling about. One reporter, a lady with short black hair and too much makeup, shoves a microphone in my face. The light from the camera behind her causes me to squint.
“Miss Andrews, how do you feel about the verdict today? Do you think the decision was a fair one?”
My mom starts sobbing again.
“I... please just go away,” I mutter, trying to move out of their way.
The horde follows us.
“Miss Andrews, how much time does your brother think he’s going to get—”
“Enough!”
Mom and I freeze and turn at the loud, commanding male voice. I see Carter Lockwood standing there, shoving the cameraman back and telling the female reporter to get lost. The widower and his daughter exit the courtroom and the reporters begin rushing over, clamoring for a statement from them.
“I’m sorry,” Carter says, looking down at me with regret, sadness, and anger in his dark-blue eyes. He looks at my mom. “Mrs. Andrews. How are you?”
She shakes her head and a sob jerks up again.
“Not good, as you can see,” I snap, putting my arm around her.
“Yeah, poor choice of words,” he replies. “Sorry about that.” He’s staring at me with that intensity again. “Do you ladies have a ride home?”
I nod and lift the tissue to my nose. I must look like a wreck. Normally, I would be very self-conscious about how I looked around Carter Lockwood—I’ve had a mad crush on him since I was thirteen, after all—but today, I couldn’t care less. A deep sadness for my brother is all that consumes me. “We took a Lyft. I was too messed up to try and drive in that traffic, and of course Mom’s upset, too...”
“I’m giving you both a ride. I insist.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s okay, really—”
“That would be lovely, Carter,” my mom says with a sniffle, patting him on the arm of his expensive suit.
He smiles sadly at her and offers her his arm, which she loops through his. He glances back at the reporters, who are chasing after the victim’s husband, and ushers us down the long, shiny-floored hallway to the parking garage, where a dark town car with blacked-out windows is waiting. A man in a black suit opens the back door and my mom gets in first, followed by me, and then Carter.
“Still living at the Townsend Street house?” he asks.
“Yes,” Mom and I reply in unison.
Carter rattles off the address and I watch the driver put it into his dash-mounted GPS. The car smells like expensive leather, but more overpowering is Carter’s cologne. It’s not obnoxiously strong, but it just smells like him and brings back memories.
I clear my throat. “Mom’s at the Townsend house. I have a condo nearby. You can just drop us both at Mom’s.”
“You don’t have to come,” Mom says. “I’m just going to take a vallum and go to sleep. I can’t bear the thought of my baby in prison...” A sob jerks free and I hold her while she cries, trying to be strong.
Technically, I’m the baby. Eric’s my older brother, and while he’s never been in jail before, I think he’ll be okay. He played football for four years, has a master’s degree in sports medicine, and is a total gym-rat—to include a boxing hobby.
He just shouldn’t have left that bar without a ride. He fucking knew better.
Why hadn’t he called me? Or dammit, there’s Uber and Lyft... so easy. No excuses. I’m so angry at him for doing this to our mother. But so much worse, he’s left a little girl without a mom and a poor husband who has to raise her alone.
I take a deep breath to quell my anger.
“You okay?” Carter asks, placing his hand on mine.
I shake my head and bite my lip. I don’t want his comfort now. I’ll just lose my shit and embarrass myself. I take another steeling breath. “No, but I will be.”
He nods and grips my hand, holding it the rest of the way to Mom’s house. My car is in the driveway. I need to get out and drive it back to my condo. But I don’t want to leave Carter’s calming touch. As much as I didn’t want his comfort, I admit now that I need it. I crave it.
The driver gets out and reaches a hand in to help my mom out.
“I should go...” I say.
Carter doesn’t budge. “Let me take you home.”
“My car...”
“I’ll have David fetch it and bring it to your place.” He gestures to the driver, who dips his head at me in acknowledgment. He’s an older man, with gray hair and kind brown eyes.
“Mom, you sure you don’t need me to come in? I could make you some tea.”
She is already walking up the walkway with David escorting her. She flaps a hand at me. “No tea. No, I told you I’m going to sleep. I need a reset to this horrible damn day.”
“Love you, Mom.”
She nods and starts to cry again. Dammit. I should be there for her.
She thanks David and then closes and locks the door. Then, he closes the back door, gets into the driver’s seat, and drives down Townsend.
“My address is—”
“Are you hungry?” Carter asks.
I look up at him, his intense gaze is piercing me with a look I haven’t seen on him before.
No, I want to throw up, actually...
Instead, I shrug. “Not really.”
“Carboni’s, David,” he instructs, ignoring me.
“Absolutely, sir.”
He’s still holding my hand. “You need to eat. Italian always comforts.”
“Carbs in general,” I reply, trying to crack a smile.
***
I really can’t eat much, my stomach is still in knots, but the red wine helps. It’s not my first time trying it, and while I find it bitter, and not a fan of drinking anything warm, I’m not in the position to really care. I just want to be numb.
“So, how is school going?” Carter asks after swallowing a bite of chicken.
I lift a shoulder and let it fall. “Slow. This shit with Eric has put me behind. I had to drop two classes to help him and my mom.”
“Are you still set to graduate in May?”
“I think so, but now I have to double down on classes. The programming labs are hard.”
He nods and picks up his drink. “Yes, they are. But you’ll get through it. Still shooting for an Information Technology degree?”
“Yes, for now. Why?”
He chuckles. “Well, I have a master’s in it, so if you need help, you just ask. I’m looking into app development right now. It’s a great money-maker.”
I’d also looked into it myself. “You’re right. What kind of apps?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Mostly games for now.”
“Nice.” I smile weakly and we finish our meals in comfortable silence.
“Did you enjoy your ravioli?” Carter asks, taking a sip of what I think is whiskey, since I hadn’t paid much attention when he was ordering earlier.
“It was very good. Thank you for the meal. I... I needed this. It’s been a shitty day.”
He nods and sets his drink down. Then, he reaches across the table and grabs my hand. “Taryn, I know you’re worried about Eric. He’s going to be okay.”
“I don’t know. But I’m going to worry the whole time. Why did he have to go and drink and drive? He... he knew better!” I stammer out, frustrated.
“Yes, he did know better, but he made a bad decision. When I talked to him, he said he felt sober enough to drive. He didn’t think it would be an issue, and in fact, was fumbling with his phone when he hit that car. Probably wouldn’t have happened if he was paying attention, intoxicated or not. Unfortunately, police had to give him a field sobriety test and, well, he was just over the legal limit.”
“He told me the same thing. Cops told him distracted driving is just as bad as drunk driving.”
Carter nods. “They’re right.”
“I just can’t believe he’s going to have to spend a couple of years in prison.” I shake my head.
He purses his lips and gives me a regretful look.
“What?” I ask, setting my fork on my plate.
He looks at me and frowns. “Taryn, involuntary manslaughter has a minimum of, like, five years.”
My eyes widen and then fill with tears. “Five years?”
“Yes, and the DUI is at least a year.”
I swallow hard and try to maintain my composure. “I won’t see my brother for six years?”
Rubbing his thumb along the top of my hand, he says, “He could parole early for good behavior. And you can visit him.”
“I’m going to pray he gets less time. Or none at all. He didn’t do it on purpose! It was an accident. A dumb mistake.” I shake my head.
“A mistake that took a young woman’s life,” he says gently. “No way he’s not going to do time. I just want to prepare you. I offered him my attorney, but he refused. It would have been a waste of money, anyway. They make an example out of these types of cases.”
I nod, knowing he’s right. I lift my eyes to his and he’s staring at me intently.
There’s something between us now that feels different from when we were kids. Well, when I was a kid. A young teen with a crush on my older brother’s best friend. The shy looks and giggles with my BFF as he would take off his shirt while playing street hockey in the road. Or soccer. Or basketball. Whatever they were doing.
No. This here is intensity. This stare-off is making me feel things between my legs I hadn’t felt before.
“Want to get out of here?” he whispers.
I nod absently as I stare at him, probably with my mouth open. “Yeah.”