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26
Gideon
It only took a damn month for my case to go to court. During those long ass days, I sat in a cell by myself, kept from the general public areas of the county jail except for meals. That meant a few hours worth of body weight workouts every day. A shit ton of reading since I had access to the jail’s small library. Even more time to stare at the ceiling and relive every second I could remember of being in my princess’s presence.
The peach scent of her filling my lungs while I’d pressed against her back. The feel of her satiny skin beneath my nose. The sight of her sunshine smile warming me through.
The warmth of her mouth wrapped around my dick, those luminous eyes peering up at me with wonder, fear…and fucking lust.
I jerked off daily, most days more often remembering her. Thinking of her. Fantasizing of all the things I should’ve done while I had the freedom to do so.
Lost—and I feared for a long time.
Maximum of ten years. If I got the full sentence, which my lawyer believed I would, by the time I got out, Addilyn would be done with college, married, and have a couple kids—she was that type.
A faithful wife who wouldn’t give a jackass like me the time of day.
I prayed like fuck she wouldn’t be wearing Devon Bradshaw’s ring.
The fucker woke up two days after my arrest, and the lawyer assured me he would be just fine. At least his family had no plans to sue me or my dad for damages.
All that, I’d learned from my lawyer.
Dad never came to see me. He only answered the one time I’d been allowed a call, and even then, he was short with words and his tone. Abrupt. Disappointed in my actions since Addilyn hadn’t even needed the interference.
I’d argued that fact—and the fucker hung up on me.
At least I knew he’d never get to call in that one favor I owed him with me being behind bars. Maybe he’d die of carbon monoxide poisoning himself before I got out and I wouldn’t be burdened with him in my life anymore.
A man could hope.
My door buzzed, and I sat up, ready to face the day.
Court.
A final chance to fill my eyes with Addilyn, soak in every inch of her, memorize every glance for the years ahead.
The lawyer’s pessimism had definitely worn on me. We’d only spoken a handful of times, but he assured me he would do all he could to help get me free of charges—even though there wasn’t much he could do. We had no evidence contrary to what the prosecution’s witnesses would testify to.
We only had my princess and the story she would tell.
I kept my chin lifted while being handcuffed and led into a parking garage. Tucked into the cruiser that would take me to the court. At least the sheriff didn’t tag along.
Sheriff Bradshaw sat in the front row on the opposite side of the courtroom behind the prosecutors. Beside him, Devon’s face was still discolored, giving me a sweet sense of satisfaction.
Father sat behind my assigned table, his face bland and hard as stone. No Ingrid—and no Addilyn. I refused to frown or allow my shoulders to slump. Mimicking Dad’s expression, I faced forward.
I knew Addilyn would be called in as the prosecution’s final witness, but I figured her mother kept her out of sight, out of harm’s way until she needed to swear an oath to tell the truth and nothing but the truth, so help her God.
The memory of her eyes peering up at me while on her knees sucking my dick, mascara running…the wonder, the want in her gaze, gave me assurance. She would lie for me.
I tucked my hope into her care as court came to order.
The sitting judge was the same one from my arraignment, a friend of the sheriff’s if their welcoming nod to one another was any indication. I noted the exchange, my gut twisting.
Chin lifted, I steadied myself and once more took my seat.
Opening arguments painted me as a bully, a reactionary adult with anger issues, my own lawyer’s little speech after the prosecution’s exactly that—little. Short as fuck without a hint of what he would bring to the table in my defense, same as when I’d questioned him. Like Dad used to do, the guy simply said, “Trust me.”
