I take the stand, and there’s no swearing me in, unnecessary as this is an informal statement to the court. Judge Dobrovsky gives me a kind smile and nods, a silent indication she’s ready to listen.
I glance out at Sophie. She’s leaning forward, her face soft with care and support. I look to Camarino who is still doing as requested and giving me his attention.
Then to the old woman at the back whose head is bowed as she dabs at her eyes.
Turning my regard back to Camarino, I don’t look anywhere else the entire time I tell my story.
I don’t dramatize what happened to me. I give it to the judge straight, because my injuries were so horrific, they don’t need beefing up. My struggle to overcome them has been traumatic enough. The fact I lost my hockey career as a player might even be seen by some as a death sentence. They could never know that it led me to Sophie, and I don’t tell them that. I don’t want the beauty of what we have to be theirs in any way, and I don’t want to give Camarino a moment of solace to think something good might have come from this.
When I’m done, the judge thanks me, and I step down from the witness stand. The district attorney looks to Sophie who gives a small nod that she’s on board. Her name is announced, and she and I meet at the swinging gate.
Decorum probably dictates we pass each other silently, but I can’t help myself. I put my hand to the back of her neck, lean in, and press my lips to her forehead.
“You got this,” I say.
She smiles and nods, then moves past me to take the stand.
Sophie doesn’t spare Camarino a glance. I wonder if she recognizes him now, although she couldn’t pick him out of a photo lineup. We’ve talked about it multiple times, why I can remember and she can’t, and I think the only answer is sometimes we block things to dull the pain. It could be their faces were just too much for her to keep as a memory.
The judge lets Sophie settle and then says, “You may begin, Ms. Winters.”
I watch Camarino. As the old woman requested, he’s staring at Sophie, but I can tell he’s not really attentive. Perhaps he’s on some medication, but he looks a little zombie-like. Does he have remorse for what they wanted to do to her?
Or what if he’s fucking thinking about the things he wanted to do but didn’t get the chance?
There’s the anger I was expecting. Blazing white and molten, and it takes everything I have not to leap from my seat, vault the gate, and attack that motherfucker for what he did.
Not to me, but to Sophie. For the months he and those other douchebags took away from her.
For making her afraid of her own shadow.
For the guilt she’s suffered because of what they did to me.
For some of her spirit they destroyed.
“I forgive you for what you did to me,” Sophie says quietly, and my eyes snap to her.
Her first words seem to suck all the air out of the courtroom. In the back, the old woman starts to weep audibly.
“I’m sorry,” she continues on, her eyes pinned on Camarino, “but I can’t forgive you for what you did to Baden.”
Sophie shifts in her seat and looks at me for a very long moment before giving her eyes back to Camarino. “You did the unimaginable to a good man, and for that, I hope the judge sees fit to punish you as harshly as possible within the bounds of the law. My only hope is that you feel true regret for what you did.” Sophie pauses, looks to the back of the courtroom. I look back too. The old woman is watching Sophie with watery eyes, and for a minute, they seem to share some unspoken communication.
Then Sophie once again addresses Camarino. “It seems you have someone here who cares about you, so if you care about her, I hope you can measure up to what she wants you to be one day. Granted, it will be in prison, but there will be opportunity for you to do good there. You still have a chance to make her proud.”
Holy fuck. My eyes fucking sting with tears, and I blink furiously to make them go away. I glance around—the judge is crying, Angela DuBose is crying, and the woman in the back is sobbing.
Even Camarino has tears spilling down his cheeks.
Then to Sophie, who rises stoically from the chair, eyes dry as the desert as she makes her way off the witness stand.
I want to give her an ovation, because she surpassed her own expectations for what she’d be able to do here today.
I meet her at the swinging gate, hold my hand out to her, and we leave the courtroom. Camarino will be allowed to call character witnesses, and then both the attorneys will have a chance to argue suggested sentencing.
We’d previously decided we didn’t want to stick around for that, and Ms. DuBose agreed to call us with the news. We’re confident he’ll get what he deserves.
Just as we got what we deserved today… a chance to confront one of the men who caused us so much pain.
It feels freeing, and judging by the lightness in Sophie’s step and the smile on her face, it’s equally so to her.
CHAPTER 24
Sophie
Flipping through the cupboards, I make a mental note of what I have, then move to the fridge. Bending over, I pull open the bottom freezer.
“Nice,” Baden says from behind me as he sits at the kitchen table finishing his breakfast.
I look over my shoulder and see he’s studying my ass.
“Pervert,” I reply affectionately before giving my attention back to the freezer. There’s a smile on my face that’s pretty much been permanent since we returned from Phoenix and settled into our new roles of “something much more than friendship.”
I pull out a pack of ground beef. “I’ll make lasagna for dinner. I have all the ingredients.”
It’s a great meal for a cozy, intimate meal on a cold night. I have a good bottle of red wine, and we can sit by the fire after to talk. While it might sound corny and cliché, Baden and I actually like to just sit and talk. I mean… we both love this newfound sexual relationship, but we’re so into each other that sometimes we just can’t stop talking.
As I turn to Baden, something flashes on his face before he smiles at me. “Sounds yummy.”
It was a grimace. I’m sure that’s what it was.
“You don’t like lasagna?”
“It’s fine.” He waves his hand like it’s no big deal, but I can tell by the tone of his voice it’s not fine at all.
Setting the frozen hamburger on the counter, I move around the island to stand before him. “If you don’t like lasagna, Baden, I can easily make something else.”
He rises and pulls me into his arms—something I’m still trying to get used to but know in my heart that with a man like this, it will feel new and fresh and exhilarating every time—and he kisses my forehead. “I can totally do lasagna.”
And there it is again… that little something in his voice that tells me he would suffer through a dish he doesn’t like because he assumes I really want it. He’s sacrificing for me.
And while it’s an incredibly sweet gesture, I don’t want him catering to me like that. I want us to be partners.
Tipping my head back, I ask, “You saved me from certain harm, maybe death, didn’t you?”
Baden frowns. “Yeah, but—”
“And you and I are now sexually intimate, implying a much deeper bond than what we shared from our common experience last summer?”