Frustration bubbles in my chest, but it doesn’t feel anywhere near as painful as Anders walking out on me.
“Would it make a difference if he was more?”
Dad takes a seat at the table. “I’m not going to give you the case files. Attorney-client privilege—”
“Yeah, thanks, I did learn something in law school. I want to jog your memory so you can tell me what you’re able to.”
He fills in his log-in details and then does a search for Anderson Steel.
“There’s an E on the end,” I say over his shoulder.
Dad fixes it, and something pops up on screen immediately. “Here. Public court records.”
Dad stands, giving me the chance to cross a line I know I probably shouldn’t.
Shit.
Now that the opportunity’s here, I’m not sure if I should take it. It’s an invasion of privacy.
To get straight answers for once or to keep waiting for Anders to tell me. It’s a tough choice to make.
“Maybe you should talk to Anders,” Rachel says.
My heart leaps into my throat.
Dad leans over the table and scrolls through the document for me, because I can’t bring myself to do it.
I also can’t bring myself to stop him from talking.
“Domestic situation that escalated into violence. Defendant claimed to be high and the victim hit him first in anger over his drug problem.”
Domestic abuse.
There it is. There’s the missing piece.
It wasn’t a sex issue at all. He didn’t lie about that. He lied about who hurt him, and now that it’s been pointed out, I can’t believe it didn’t cross my mind.
A weight lifts off me as the truth hits.
Anders’ issues with intimacy have nothing to do with the physical side of things.
He can’t trust that I won’t hurt him because the one person who wasn’t supposed to, did.
And then my dad defended him.
I slump into the closest chair and run my hands through my hair, gripping the roots tight.
I’m a lawyer. I find loopholes and ways to get around the rules to get what I want. But there are no loopholes here, only broken hearts, and I think I’m about to add mine to the list.
“Brody, did you hear me?” Dad says.
I lift my head. “What?”
“It was a heated argument that got out of hand. Your boyfriend attacked first.”
“There’s no way that happened.”
It doesn’t sound right. That can’t have happened. I pull the laptop closer to me.
The words are there in black and white. The prosecutor’s case against the defence.
Dad painted Anders in a light that would make a jury sympathetic to his assailant if it had gotten that far, which it didn’t. After depositions, the prosecutor offered up a plea deal.
The Anders in these papers is nothing like the guy I live with.
The Anders I know makes sure a sauce-covered cat doesn’t have a PTSD episode while trying to bathe her.
He’s sweet, a little sarcastic, and a lot self-deprecating. It’s damn near impossible for him to trust, but he pushed himself to try with me.
He’s not the type of guy to hit his boyfriend in a rage.
Then again, Reed swears Anders’ brother isn’t the type of guy to punch out a random guy, but Law did that. A drunk, bigoted guy, but he still lost his head.
Maybe the Steele brothers have anger management issues. Though, I still can’t wrap my head around Anders being violent towards anyone. Not on purpose like these papers claim.
What happened might’ve changed him. He’s easily spooked now, and his whole life revolves around his anxiety and therapy. PTSD has the ability to change someone. Perhaps the Anders I know is someone new—someone who didn’t exist until five years ago.
Police reports for the case made note of Kyle’s bloodwork. He had crystal meth in his system after he turned himself in a few hours after the fact. The evidence supports Kyle’s story, and with Anders withdrawing his desire to testify, it was easy for my father to get the charges reduced.
Attempted murder downplayed to aggravated assault.
“You don’t remember the case?” I ask my father.
“Barely. It was an easy case to plead out, so there’s not much to remember.”
I have no doubt that Anders knows every tiny little detail of the case. This only reiterates what I’ve been thinking ever since I’ve been trying the rape case at work. To be in this field, you need to be able to let shit go.
Dad doesn’t remember Anders, but Anders knew who he was the minute he stepped through the door.
Kyle was sentenced to six years.
Anders has been suffering for five and a half of them.
Shit, Kyle’s set to get out in a few months.
Now knowing the truth and everything that went down, I want to go to Anders. I want to hold him close and tell him in person what I’ve silently vowed all along. He’s mine to protect, and I will do it with every fibre of my being.