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“Peter—”
“No, Charlotte,” Peter growled, his chest heaving the harder he balled his gloved fists at his sides. “I’m tired of hearing it. You’re always defending him, and I have literally grown sick and fucking tired of constantly being made to put up with this shit.”
“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“What I mean,” Peter said thickly, releasing a slight scoff when he finally noticed me standing off to the side, minding my own business while I was still holding on to this damn flower vase.
Well, this was awkward.
“What I mean…is that as your friend, I love you, and I am genuinely concerned for you, Charlotte. But as your lawyer, I’m sorry. I just can’t do this anymore. I’m done.”
“So that’s it? You’re quitting on me?”
“What other choice do I have?” he challenged with a furious cock of his head. “For years—fucking years—I have been by your side offering you advice, guidance, and support. I helped push you through law school and was always there whenever you needed a shoulder to cry on, especially when it first came out Karl was cheating on you.”
“I know that, Peter—”
“I told you not to drop the charges, Charlotte.” His voice shook with his body. “I warned you this would happen, and like fucking always, you outright refused to listen to me. If learning the hard way is what it takes for you to finally open your eyes, then so be it. Either way, I’m done.”
He spun on his heels, leaving Charlotte to stand there blinking wide-eyed and utterly baffled.
“Peter,” she hollered, trying to call him back.
But it didn’t do any good.
Peter hopped right on in his car and drove away without a second thought.
“Damnit,” she whispered, bellowing out a hasty breath before she turned and offered me an unfriendly smirk. “Did you enjoy the show?”
“I wasn’t trying to intrude,” I said calmly, hoping not to agitate her further as I grasped the vase and extended my arms, nudging my head for her to take it. “These are for you. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I just kind of winged it.”
Charlotte gaped between me and the flowers, appearing unsure of herself and perhaps a little uncomfortable when she reached out and accepted them.
“They’re lovely, Phoenix. It’s…um. It is okay if I call you Phoenix, right?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “I don’t see why not. After all, that is my name.”
“Right.”
Charlotte stood there for another minute, mute, and just as I began questioning whether or not I’d made a mistake with the flowers, Charlotte gave me a warm smile and then jerked her head for me to follow her in.
She had a beautiful home. Hardwood floors paved the living and dining room, and wedged in the middle of the layout was a gorgeous black-oak staircase ascending to the upper level of the residence. The kitchen was huge—practically every Homemaker’s dream kitchen—and ahead was a glass of wine resting on the island with a personal laptop and an open case file next to it.
Huh.
Charlotte must’ve been working on Amber’s case before the cavalry arrived.
“I’m sorry about that,” Charlotte said, twisting around to face me when she was finished setting the alarm. “Peter can be a little…hormonal, at times.”
“It’s none of my business,” I told her, honestly meaning it despite how much I wanted to tell her that she should’ve taken Chief up on his offer.
It wasn’t my place, and I was here to fix shit, not ruin it more.
“But is it fine that I ask if you’re okay?”
Charlotte gripped the vase tightly in her hands and led me toward the kitchen, where she placed the vase up on the windowsill.
I took that moment to pull a barstool closer to the island and sat down, glancing briefly at Amber Strickland’s crime scene photos stacked atop the open file.
