Prologue
“What did you get for number three?” I asked, peering over his shoulder.
“The standard of proof.”
“Me too.” I flashed him a smile.
“It sounds so simple, doesn’t it?” he mused. “But of course, once you’re in the courtroom, proof suddenly becomes the most complicated thing in the world.”
He paused and stared into my eyes. God, he was gorgeous. Why did he have to look so good? How was I supposed to focus?
“Ha, yeah I guess,” I said, moving my hair out of my face.
He moved closer to me. “I mean, so much depends on what everyone is thinking. The other lawyers. The judges. The jury. How can you ever know for certain what’s going through someone’s mind?”
I swallowed. Somehow, I didn’t think it was all that difficult to tell what was going through my mind at the moment…
The same could be said for him though, considering the way he licked his lips.
We were supposed to be studying for our law exam, but all I could think about were his lips on mine.
“So, tomorrow is the final. I think we should go celebrate afterwards.” He winked.
I raised my eyebrows. “Oh? Where do you want to go?”
“Just out. Anywhere. I don’t care as long as it’s with you.” He paused and gave a devilish grin. “And as long as you wear those jeans you had on last week.”
“What?” I asked, pretending to be shocked. In reality, I knew exactly which jeans he was talking about. After all, there was a strong possibility that I’d worn them to get his attention in the first place...
“Because tomorrow, after we pass this class, I am getting my hands into those jeans, Anna Harper,” he said just above a whisper.
A simultaneous ache and anticipatory tingle formed low in my body. I wanted Tucker so badly I thought it was going to kill me.
CHAPTER 1
Tucker
I fucking hated October 5th.
The harsh thought bounced through my head and seemed to echo across the empty cemetery. I forced it to stay inside of my head though as my mom and I visited his grave.
We stood in front of his headstone, staring down at the slab of rock that was supposed to represent his life. Instead, it only represented his absence.
A small American flag whipped back and forth in the wind, creating a steady rhythm for our grief.
October 5th arrived too soon every year, and it would always be the worst day of the year.
Five years had passed since my father died, but it still felt like yesterday. This year, however, my mom didn’t cry.
We visited the grave and said our obligatory prayers. Afterwards, I took a short walk so that my mom could speak to him alone. I did this with her every year, but never understood why. Part of me knew it was just a way to make her feel better. It helped her feel closer to him. Yet, a bigger part of me thought it was a waste of time.
What was the point of talking to a rock? He wasn’t there.
Still, it was a welcomed change to not have to support my sobbing mom walking back to the car. I was pleased to see that she didn’t shed a single tear this time. She simply stayed quiet.
Something had clicked inside of her a few months ago. I could tell the difference immediately. While she still felt his loss in her soul, it no longer crippled her daily life. She had finally found a sense of peace.
I was happy for her, I really was. I just would have been happier if we could stop our yearly visits all together because for me, it never got easier to look at his name on that headstone.
Aaron Roland James. His name was written in large and bold letters.
Being one of the newer residents in the Savage cemetery, his headstone stood out amongst the rest. The others were beginning to fade, but his could be read from fifty yards away. Every time I laid eyes on it, I was forced to remember him in ways I didn’t want to. I could still see the coffin they unloaded off that plane—there had been an American flag draped over it. My mom still had that flag folded tightly in a memory box in her bedroom.