I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2)(14)

I never would have expected it, but Mr. Big Shot Attorney turned out to be not just a good lawyer, but also a good guy. I slowly grew to trust him. When the time came, he argued my case before the judge, insisting I’d been railroaded. He spread out all the documentation, presented the evidence. He was nothing if not thorough. And when all was said and done, the judge agreed. My six-year sentence was commuted to time served. I couldn’t believe it. I was a free man. Finally, I could go home. Unfortunately, I had no home to go to.

I’d already decided—even before I was released—if I got out of prison I wasn’t going back to Vegas. There were just too many memories there, most of them bad, some of them sadder than f*ck. So no, I had no desire to return to the town that had broken me.

My mother, who had no idea I’d already made up my mind, gently suggested I give Vegas another try on the day she visited with my brother. It was the morning of my court date.

At the courthouse, while we all waited in a holding cell in the courthouse, she said, “We have a big house out there in the desert, Chase. There’s plenty of space. I can decorate a room for you any way you’d like.”

It was a sweet sentiment, but it was about seven years too late. I had needed a mom who was interested in stuff like decorating and taking care of her wayward son right after Dad died. But what can you do? Mom was more into gambling, not nurturing, back then.

I didn’t go into my real reasons for not wanting to go back to Sin City. I just told Mom, “Thanks, but no thanks.”

It was ultimately Greg’s home she was inviting me into, and her new husband had already done enough for me. Despite all we’d been through over the years, it was still great seeing my mother. She may piss me off, but I’ll always love her. She looked so fantastic at the courthouse that day, healthy and together, no more vices. No more gambling, no more smoking. Although I could have sworn I smelled smoke on her clothes. But Greg had definitely gotten her help for her gambling addiction, and she assured me she’d stopped going to the casinos months ago.

I begrudgingly conceded to her that Greg was an okay dude, better than all the rest of the guys who had never cared what my mother did in her spare time. I guess I missed my mom more than I’d realized. I actually got a little misty-eyed when I first saw her that day at the courthouse. Maybe she missed me too. Lord knows she sure held on to me for a small eternity when I gave her a hug.

“I love you, Chase,” she told me in a strangled voice as she struggled to hold back tears. “I’m so sorry all this happened to you, baby. I wish we could go back in time. I’d do things so differently.”

No, you wouldn’t, I thought.

But it didn’t matter, and it doesn’t now either. And though I couldn’t say it back that morning, I think she knows I love her. She is my mother, after all. She’s far from perfect, but she’s the only parent I have left. And I’ve lost too much time these past few years to waste any more of it being bitter.

Will, who’d accompanied Mom to the courthouse, stood quietly in the corner of the holding cell that day, eyeing me warily throughout the whole exchange with our mom. I couldn’t believe how tall he’d gotten. But he is almost fifteen now. He’s a good-looking kid, favors Mom a lot. His hair is dark blond, same shade as hers. His eyes are also the same vivid green. A color that never fails to remind me of freshly unfurled spring leaves.

“Give your brother a hug, Will,” my mom said when she was finally done hugging me.

“Do I have to?” he asked, hurt and betrayal evident behind the hard stare he leveled my way.

“Of course not, buddy,” I cut in, not wanting to push.

The look of venom I received in return cut to the quick. “I am not your buddy,” Will hissed, “not anymore. Not ever again.”

Fuck, his words hurt like hell, still do. But he has every reason to hate me. I let my baby brother down. I disappointed a kid who once looked up to me like I was some kind of a hero. I am no hero, that’s for sure. It seems the only thing I excel in is disappointing the ones I love. Yet another reason why I knew that day that Vegas was most definitely out.

I wasn’t sure where I was going to go once I was released. I feared freedom would yoke me in the same way as prison. But then I got word that when my grandmother had died she left me the farmhouse out on Cold Springs Lane, all the property too, and even a little bit of money. Grandma Gartner accomplished in death what she had strived to do in life—she saved my ass. And that in and of itself would have been enough, but she’d also miraculously managed to convince Father Maridale—probably as a dying wish—to have mercy on me.

Father Maridale came to see me the day I was released, once everything was official and I was truly free. He urged me to come home to Harmony Creek and move back into the farmhouse. It didn’t take too much convincing, I’d just found out the house now belonged to me.

I guess I could have sold it and moved anywhere. I may have chosen that path in the past. But when I considered it, for a few brief seconds, it just didn’t feel right. I hadn’t seen the farmhouse in almost four years, but all I could do was sit and wonder if the frame exterior was still the same antique white color I’d painted it one September. Would the shutters still be blue, blue as a country twilight sky? I needed to know, it seemed more than important. Everything in my soul told me it was time to go back.