The Coffee Date

Chapter 26 - Meet The Case

She wanted to seem professional, but she didn't want to try. Thomas Sinclair didn't deserve that.

Nathan frowned, scurrying to the other side and opening her door. "Haz, look at me."

Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, her thoughts fumbling about inside. It wasn't until he said her name again, more pleading the second time, did she turn and meet his gaze.

"I will be right there with you, okay?" He frowned, watching her shoulders curl in. "You're not going through this alone anymore. I'm here now. I'm not leaving you."

Despite feeling her throat still tight straining the amount of air she was allowed to take in, she stood with one hand gripping the palm Nathan had held out for her.

"I got you." He shushed, closing the vehicle door behind her.

As they drew closer to the front doors, Hazel could feel a shaky breath escape her lips. The steps, the courtroom. What took place inside would define the rest of her life. Regardless of how the case goes over, regardless if they win or lose, today was defining.

There are rarely moments in life that one can say shaped them as a person. That's what makes them so special. They mould you. They shape you into the person you are and who you'll one day grow into and there's a feeling one gets when they walk into one. Walking across the stage on graduation day, a first kiss, getting a driver's license

Or your parents' murder trial.

It's rush that's unfamiliar to others. The sensation that falls over someone like a blanket. One that says "remember this moment, for better or worse".

This was for worse.

She could feel fingers trace down her arm which made her turn, only to meet the awaiting gaze of her partner. It was anxious, concerned, with hints of collection scattered throughout.

"I'm ready." Hazel breathed.

"I knew you would be."

He took her hand as they started up the stairs, her palm resting atop of his. As they reached the doors, whisking their way through swarms of people, his fingers laced with hers. His thumb brushed against the side of her hand, calming her as best as he could as they waded their way into the courtroom.

Just like that, she tensed up again.

The walls were white and dull, bland from having seen felons walk in and out their halls day in and day out. The hardwood floor was tattered and old, worn down from the shoes that had walked carelessly over them.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." Nathan cooed, bringing her in closer to his side and allowing his arm to wrap around her, letting his palm rest against her opposing arm. In calming silence he led her to their seats. Front row, far corner. Only so when she was called upon to speak she could get in and out with ease.

They sat in the silence that had quickly grown uneasy for what seemed like lifetimes. The clock continued to tick on as people began to fill the room. The entire time Nathan's hand refused to leave Hazel's arm, tracing soothing circles against the fabric.

But suddenly, the door behind them closed, Hazel visibly jumping at the sound.

They turned, and Hazel's heart dropped.

In he walked; Thomas Sinclair. From ankles to neck he was dressed in orange. On his feet he wore cheap black shoes, clomping against the floor as he walked. His hands were locked in chains before him as he made his way down the middle aisle, turning to study every individual that he passed. Maybe he made it a point to stare at Hazel for the longest, or maybe it was because he was too busy being shoved into his seat to focus on anything other than the woman who put him there.