Biker's Virgin

“So there was a lot of time you spent apart?”

I hesitated a moment. “Yes.”

“So he might have been dealing drugs—you can’t know for sure, can you?”

“I… I know Phil.”

“How can you say that when you just admitted to having believed he was guilty?”

“I made a mistake.”

“What if you’re making a mistake now?”

“I’m not.”

“You seem to be a very inconsistent young woman, Ms. Jacobs.”

“Objection!” Phil’s lawyer cried.

“Sustained,” the judge said firmly.

“No further questions, Your Honor,” Brent’s lawyer said as he walked away.

I realized he never needed me to answer at all. He just needed to sow the seeds of doubt, and he had done a brilliant job of doing just that.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Phil

Two days after the trial, and was still reliving moments from it. I had a feeling that I would be reliving moments from it even years from now. I remembered the white shirt Victor had brought me. The collar was stiff and uncomfortable, and the trousers itched a little, although I had a feeling that had more to do with my nerves than the fabric.

Despite the overwhelming amount of evidence piling up against Brent, I still had to undergo a trial so that I could be officially cleared of all charges and Victor prepared me for the fact that Brent and his lawyer would go into this with all guns blazing. I remembered how the courtroom smelled as I had walked into it. There was the musky scent of sawdust, sweat, and salt in the air.

The one memory that burned the brightest was the sight of Megan walking into the courtroom. She hadn’t seen me at first. Her face was turned down; she looked pale and shaken, as though she hadn’t slept for days. And yet, despite that, she still looked beautiful. Her hazel eyes stood out because they looked so big now against her ashen complexion. I felt a whir of concern scatter through me, and I wondered if she was okay—if she was eating, if she was sleeping, if she needed someone to talk to? And then I reminded myself that I was the victim in all this, not her.

When she took the stand, I could barely look at her. Only in the moments when her gaze was turned away from me did I risk glancing in her direction. She wrung her hands together continuously, and I could tell that she was anxious, but I wasn’t sure why she looked so sad.

And then the question that Victor had told me he was going to ask came. “Did you ever suspect that Phil was doing drugs?”

“No,” Megan replied.

She didn’t hesitate, and she didn’t blink. She answered as though that were the only answer she could possibly reply with, which was what made it harder for me to believe she had genuinely believed Brent over me.

“And yet, you believed he was guilty when he was arrested?” Victor asked.

She paused for a second, and I saw her mouth open, but no sound came out. Then she looked towards me, so I looked down immediately, unable to handle direct eye contact at that particular moment. Then she started speaking.

They were beautiful words, and I felt myself respond to them. But then I reminded myself of that phone call I had made to her right after my arrest. She hadn’t even allowed me to explain properly. She had jumped straight to suspicion, and she had stayed there without once questioning the circumstances surrounded my arrest. Still… I couldn’t forget those words.

Family was a term that held a lot of meaning for me, perhaps more so because I never had a functional, loving family atmosphere growing up. To hear her say that she was wrong meant a lot to me, but I realized my pride and my feelings had been so deeply hurt that I wasn’t sure if there was any coming back from that.

As the defense attorney peppered her with questions, I realized he was making a valid point. If the person who I spent the most time with outside of work believed I was guilty, didn’t that mean that something was going on? It was a smart question to put forth, and if the amount of evidence against Brent hadn’t been so overwhelming, then I would have been scared.

I remembered the one moment when my disappointment and nervousness had dissipated into anger. It was when Brent took the stand to speak. I searched his eyes for remorse, for some sense of apology. Yes, things had been strained between us for the past couple of months, but we had been friends. We had known each other for years. That had to mean something.

But apparently to Brent, it meant nothing. He sat there, his expression devoid of emotion and his eyes ranging over the people in the courtroom. I could sense that he only wanted to save himself and was willing to throw anyone under the bus if it meant he could be set free.

Victor approached him slowly and addressed him politely, but I knew he was trying to lead him into a trap so that his true personality would come through. I knew Brent well enough to know he was immature and short-sighted. If Victor was smart, he could expose Brent for the lying coward he was.