Built (Saints of Denver #1)(75)

I sighed heavily and paused as I reached the front doors of the courthouse. What kept us from connecting was the fact that I hadn’t loved him and he hadn’t loved me . . . not the real me anyway.

A flash of pink caught my eye, and I felt my mouth drop open in stunned shock when I saw the same young woman who had been giving Quaid hell the last time I was here come barreling out the doors. She was very pretty up close, in a surprisingly delicate way that didn’t go with her shocking hair color or the angry twist of her mouth. I couldn’t make out the color of her eyes as she flew past me, but I could see her eye makeup smeared across her face and the distinct tracks of tears on her face. Quaid was hot on her heels, looking as polished and professional as ever in a severe gray suit, minus the fact that his hair was standing up on the top of his head in a thousand directions like he had been pulling on it. He didn’t seem to notice me, and I was about to call out a greeting when I saw him reach out and pull the young woman to a stop by her arm. He spun her around, shouted something I couldn’t make out, which made me want to interrupt because he was obviously about to lose his cool. However, when I started to speak Quaid yanked the woman up on her tiptoes until they were lined up and his mouth was on hers.

I blinked in shock at the sight.

It was there as Quaid pulled the struggling girl closer and as she reluctantly gave in and curled her arms around his wide shoulders. The color. The risk. The more than love that people needed to be together forever. The more that made people strive to be better for the people that honestly cared about them. Quaid and the pink-haired firecracker appeared to be so wrong together. His divorce had jaded him and made him hard. She was too young for him and seemed so disillusioned. Not to mention that she was his client . . . his criminal client, but I could see something special in the way he handled her even as she jerked away from him and then slapped him across his too handsome face before stalking off; there was more there between them. It was vibrant. It sparked with life and it made me envy what I had willingly walked away from.

I missed everything about being with Zeb.

“Sayer?” I had forgotten all about Nathan on the other end of the phone and ducked inside the building before Quaid could catch sight of me witnessing his heated moment with the girl. I was shaken a little and I wasn’t really sure why.

“I’m getting ready to go through security. I have to go. I honestly hope that one day you meet someone who makes you want to do more, Nathan.”

I didn’t bother to explain beyond that. He muttered a sour-sounding good-bye, and I hung up so I could send everything through the X-ray and walk through the metal detector. I was nervous when I entered the room where Zeb and his family had been told to wait for me before the final ruling.

I tried to force it down but some of my anxiety must have shown on my face when my gaze locked on his dark green one because before I could rattle out a shaky hello, a lovely, dark-haired woman who could only be his mother was in front of me, forcing me to tear my eyes off him with her hand held out.

“Hello. I’m Melissa Fuller. I can’t tell you how grateful we are for all the work you’ve done to help Zeb and Hyde. We can’t wait to have him home for good.”

Zeb growled from across the room and his deep voice rumbled out a gruff “This is my attorney, Sayer Cole.” I didn’t miss the emphasis that he put on the word “attorney.” It made me cringe, even though that was the role I’d chosen to play in his life. It still prickled when he gave me what I wanted . . . or what I thought I wanted.

I shook the woman’s hand and cleared my throat. Zeb was still staring at me from where he was propped up against the wall, but I ignored him and shook the hand of the other woman who came forward. She looked so much like Zeb that I knew she had to be his sister. When she introduced herself as Beryl and raked her eyes over me in a very speculative way, I couldn’t help but feel judged, not in a bad way, but the woman was obviously assessing my worth. I wanted to blurt out that I knew her little brother deserved better than what I had put him through as of late, but instead I told their mother, “Zeb has had to do most of the work. I just put the wheels in motion. Hyde should be at home with his family. I was happy to have a hand in making it happen.”

I looked at Zeb out of the corner of my eye, but he hadn’t moved a muscle. I could see a muscle in his cheek flexing under his beard and his eyebrows were furrowed over his eyes like he was contemplating something really troubling. I wanted to rub the furious lines away with my fingertips. I put my bag on the table and told the women to take a seat so I could briefly explain what was going to happen once we went before the judge. I looked at Zeb and asked him quietly if he wanted to join us.

He just shook his head and stayed where he was, looming like a grumpy statue and filling the tiny space with waves of discontent and annoyance. He wasn’t happy with me, which was fine. I wasn’t very happy with myself either. But I was getting there.

When the women sat down across from me, I ran through what would happen if the judge decided he wanted to speak with them about Zeb’s fitness as a parent. I warned Beryl that if she took the stand there was a very good chance that her history with Joss’s father would be brought up, and how it had led to Zeb’s arrest. I told her to keep calm, state the facts only, and to focus on how Zeb was with her daughter now. I told her to tell the court that she had no qualms about leaving Joss in Zeb’s care and to focus on how far he had come since his time in prison. I gave her a little grin and told her that all she had to do was tell the judge why Zeb was a great brother and uncle, to which she replied, “Piece of cake.”