Page 17 of Rescued Love

I was already regretting my actions the last few days. Honestly, she didn’t even make it off the property before I was second guessing myself and wondering if I had fucked up. Now, I know I did.

“If she’s everything you say she is,” he gives me a pointed look which screams ‘of course she is’ and I swallow hard, “then I owe her an apology.”

“You owe her more than an apology,” he grumbles.

“What do you mean?”

“You owe her flowers. Maybe a meal of some sort. Definitely something sweet since women like that sort of thing normally. And a sincere apology.”

“Of course my apology would be sincere,” I insist.

The way Grandpa is looking at me, it’s clear he’s not sure that me telling Kimball I’m sorry would be anything more than hot air and words. I know it would be because now that I’ve gotten information about her and Grandpa’s assured me she only has the best interest of the animals at heart, I feel badly for making assumptions about her.

Didn’t I learn a long time ago that assumptions are never good?

When I started my internship, I helped on a case where someone was being wrongly accused of a crime. I walked into every meeting, in the beginning, with a chip on my shoulder thinking I was so much better than the person we were defending. I thought for sure he was guilty.

He wasn’t.

Nigel was the one who set me straight on the whole thing. It was a case of our client being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was just trying to help someone he saw in need, but instead of being listened to, he was railroaded. The whole case was a shit show from start to finish.

When Nigel informed me he took on the case pro bono because he couldn’t stand on the sidelines and not do anything, it sunk in just how biased I was when it came to criminal defense.

I changed my attitude and strove to do better. I no longer assumed from the start that the person I was defending did the crime they were accused of. I walked, talked, and believed in ‘innocent until proven guilty’.

At least until Culbert.

His crimes hit too close to home and forced me to look in the mirror in a new way. I no longer liked what I was seeing in my reflection. Hell, I no longer recognized myself.

I don’t know what Grandpa was seeing on my face, but his eyes softened along with his voice, “You never told me what brought you here, Nathan.”

“I told you,” my tone is defensive as fuck.

And we both know it.

“No, you skirted around the truth,” he points out, correctly. Amusement fills his voice when he goes on to tease me, “It was very lawyerly of you.”

I scoff but take no offense to his words. He’s not wrong.

I never understood the shit that lawyers get or the way a lot of people hate those in my profession. Then I became a lawyer and spent time around other lawyers. I understand a little better now.

I see people at their worst and aren’t always able to deliver the news they want. Even though there are laws in place and we’re trying to uphold them, no matter what law is beingpracticed, humanity and interpretation is a huge factor that is unpredictable.

I suppose that can be the beauty in the whole system. It can also be a source of heartbreak and frustration.

Grandpa doesn’t let up on his stare and the intensity of it tells me he’s not letting me skirt around this any longer. I’m not even entirely sure why I didn’t tell him everything when I arrived.

I guess I didn’t want him to feel any guilt since it’s his face I was seeing in everyone Culbert took advantage of.

"Even though it was a hard lesson at first, I did learn not to judge the clients who come to the firm. They’re there for our help and criminal defense is a necessary part of the justice system,” I start to explain.

“I’m sure that can’t always be easy,” Grandpa hums. “I’m sure a lot of people who come to the firm are guilty as hell.”

I shrug one shoulder, not wanting to really think about the truth in his words. “They might be, but it’s not my job to decide whether they’re guilty or not. It’s my job to defend them and not allow the prosecutor to pervert the law. There’s an important balance in the system.”

Grandpa nods solemnly as he studies me and takes in my words. “What changed?”

I should have known he’d see right through me. I almost laugh, but thinking about Culbert’s victims has the sound dying in my throat. “The case I was working on,” I explain, my voice hesitant, “involved someone accused of taking advantage of older people using a pyramid scheme.”