Chicks, Man

“Yes. I agree, sir. Fully. Not a second longer. Thank you. You have no idea. Goodbye.” I end the call, squealing into my steering wheel, accidently swerving into the other lane. A car honks at me, and I jerk, dropping my phone. “Sorry,” I wave, gathering myself. Holy crap. I got it. I really got it. With Clara back on board and the continuance, we can nail this case.

I left Clara in search of finding a photo of Benjamin Miller’s son so we can submit him into evidence and subpoena him for trial. I dial Levi’s number again, and again, voicemail. Dammit! I need to get home—fast. This changes everything.

Will it change Levi’s mind about us? The wounds from his hurtful words slice at my heart all over again. “Stop,” I scold myself. As much as my heart bleeds from his distrust, I need to band-aid my emotions and focus on what’s important. Levi may have given up on me, but I refuse to give up on him. Unlike my upbringing, he was always surrounded by people who let him down. His mom, his dad, countless girlfriends who took advantage of his kind heart. I won’t be another person in his life who does. Whether we have a future, he’s always been family. Always will be.

I need to get ahold of Levi. I call his office line and get his voicemail. A call to my dad, and I get his voicemail too. Where in the world is everybody! I decide against calling Braydon. My suspicions where he’s concerned has my radar dinging in the red zone, and that nagging feeling inside my chest tells me Levi has been right about him all along.

I dial Levi’s number one last time. It hurts to consider it, but he may purposely be avoiding my calls. Just as I decide to leave the information on his voicemail, he answers. “Jesus, what? Not a good time, Hannah—”

“I got a continuance,” I spit out before he can say another word.

There’s a short pause, then he speaks, his voice low and laced with annoyance. “How’s that possible? I tried. We were denied.”

“It doesn’t matter. We now have an additional forty-eight hours until trial begins.”

There’s shuffling in the background. “What the fuck did you do?” His anger seeps through the phone, rattling my already frayed nerves.

I bite my lower lip, but there’s no way of hiding it. “I went to see Clara Hill.”

A thunderous boom echoes in the background, and I imagine Levi taking his fists to something hard. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I can’t. Listen to me. She’s back on. I got her testimony. The Miller’s did get to her. Threatened her son. I told her we’d protect her. There’s someone else—”

“Jesus Christ, Hannah! What were you thinking?”

“I was—”

“What you did not only could have jeopardized the company, but you could have been slapped with a lawsuit. Not to mention she’s being threatened! That puts you in fucking danger!” The last of his sentence comes out on a roar. I’m forced to pull the phone away so he doesn’t blow out my eardrums.

“Listen, I know I was taking a risk—”

“A risk?”

“Yeah, a risk! But in the end, it worked out. I got what we needed. I got us a continuance! The case isn’t dead. We can win this.” He sighs heavily. I know Levi well enough to know his hand is wrestling in his hair, his mind racing. “Where are you? Are you at the office? I’ll meet you.”

A short pause, and he answers, “I’m at home.”

I search the clock on my dash for the time. It’s a bit early for him to be off work, considering the extensity of what’s going on with the case. “Why are you at home? Shouldn’t you still be at work?”

“Have you talked to your brother?”

Why does that matter right now? “No, why? Why are you at home? I’m coming over—”

“No. I won’t be here. I have to meet Kip at Jake’s soon.”

“Fine, I’ll meet you there—”

“Hannah, Jesus, no! Something happened at work today. Kip—” His voice cuts out, the line going silent.

“Levi?” I pull my phone away from my face. Dead. “Oh, come on!” Kipley what? Is he hurt? Did something happen? My nerves rattle into a state of electrified panic. I check the time. I’m only twenty-five minutes out. I race with all my might, weaving in and out of cars, breaking a long list of traffic violations, until I’m pulling into the parking lot of Jake’s bar.

I get out—or attempt to, forgetting I’m still latched to my seat belt. Of course it’s the most inconvenient time to get jammed. “For the love!” I fight with the strap, until it finally releases, and I slip, falling sideways out of my car. I grunt when I stick my hand out to catch my fall, scraping it against the gravel. Gathering myself, I get up and sprint toward the building, getting held up by the doorman requesting my ID.