Fighting Our Way (Broken Tracks 2)
They still haven’t found Phoebe and are no closer to. Every day that passes by seems like another day she has to get away with what she’s done. I’m pissed. No, I’m beyond pissed.
It’s been seven weeks that I’ve had to sit by Amelia’s bed, not knowing what’s going on between us. I’m well aware it’s the least important thing that’s going on in her life right now, but I can’t help feeling like she’s given up on us—on life.
Apart from one-worded answers without so much as a flicker of emotion, she hasn’t talked to me—won’t talk to me. She lies in bed staring at the same damn spot on the wall and I don’t know what to do anymore.
I’ve been as patient as possible because none of this is easy, but it’s bleeding into my work life, and I can’t let that happen. This is my business and—
“Nate?”
“Huh?” I look up from the papers on the table in front of me into Marina’s concerned brown eyes before looking at everyone else’s sympathetic faces.
That’s another thing I’m sick of. Once news got around about what happened to my girlfriend, everyone has been giving me a wide berth, scared I’ll flip, but that’s not my personality, it never has been.
I’m laid-back Nate. Not this tightly wound, vacant shell I’ve been walking around in for the last seven weeks.
“Johnson?”
“Right,” I clear my throat and relay the information on my latest case, trying to pretend I’m not thinking about Amelia. I haven’t seen her since she was supposed to have her cast off a few days ago; letting her have a little space.
Space. I hate that word. None of this would be happening if “space” hadn’t been given in the first place.
“And that’s everything for today. Keep up the good work, guys,” Marina says, dismissing everyone. I pinch the bridge of my nose when they start to file out of the room, leaving me and Marina behind. She pulls up a chair beside me and leans back in it, crossing a leg over the other. “I think it’s time you took a sabbatical.”
I know she’s right, but the alternative of sitting in the hospital while Amelia gives me the cold shoulder, knowing there’s nothing I can do or say to change her behavior toward me is something I can’t bear.
I scrub my hand gently through my three-day stubble. “I appreciate your concern but—”
“You’re burned out.” I meet her eyes. “I’m not talking to you as a business colleague, I’m talking to you as a friend. You need time to heal.”
“Heal?” I scoff. “I’m not the one lying in a hospital bed unable to move my legs.”
“Don’t be facetious, it doesn’t suit you.” She pauses. “What I meant was that you had a few days to come to terms with all of this before you threw yourself back into work. You’re working five different cases and I’m not saying you’re not doing a great job, because you are. But that’s all you’re doing and focusing on. I understand you need to keep your mind busy, but it’s okay to delegate some of the work like you would normally do.”
I tear my gaze away from her, my teeth grinding together. Every minute I’m not in the hospital, I’m working. What she’s telling me isn’t anything new to my ears. My mom and dad have been telling me the same thing. I haven’t been for family dinners since the accident, or hardly spoken to them. It took my dad coming into the office to get me to call my mom two weeks after because she was so worried about me.
“Nate?” My gaze snaps back to Marina.
Admitting defeat, I sigh. “I can hardly concentrate on anything else but her.”
“Everyone understands that you need to be there. We picked our staff because they were resilient and more than capable of picking up extra work if need be, so lay it on them and go see your girl.”
The dark cloud hanging over my head brightens as I pick up my pen and write down a list of things that need to be done and who to hand them over to. At the end of the list, the pen hovers over the paper as I think over Tris’s case.
They’re finally on the register as foster parents and we’re in the midst of getting baby Frankie in their arms, but the truth is, Kayla has been the one taking the reins on that; she deserves all the credit and her name on it.
I decide to talk to Tris before Kayla and slide the paper over to Marina who reads it over.
“I want updates on each case.”
“Of course,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “This isn’t my first rodeo, we’ve been running the firm for over fiv
e years now. I can handle everything else.”
“Thanks.” I stand, already feeling like I’m shedding a huge burden.
She follows suit and places her hand on my arm comfortingly. “We built this business together because we trust and respect each other. I don’t know about you but it’s not just because you’re one of the best damn lawyers I’ve ever seen in a courtroom that I respect you. Your willingness to help people and better their lives coupled with the love you have for the people around you is something I’ve always admired.” She pauses before adding, “Now go take care of those people you love. I have everything handled.”
Handing the reins over isn’t an easy feat; the stress is lifted but it comes with a small burden of guilt for up and leaving everything in my wake. I know and trust that everything will be okay, but the guilt is still there nonetheless.