Chapter Five – Making Amends
"I've called us a taxi." Lowering herself to the bench beside her husband, Jillian clutched the freshly brewed coffee tightly between her hands, wishing he would say something to her. Lately he had been giving her an icy stare when they were in the same room and he barely said more than two words to her when they weren't entertaining company or playing nice around the children. "I tried to call Nicky again… there was still no answer. He's either at the lab working or still with that woman talking his ears off. Did you know they're all staying over Nick's place for the duration of their visit? It's hardly appropriate. Nick's put us up in a hotel since they were there first."
Ignoring her complaints, Bill folded away the newspaper he had been looking through, setting it down on top of his bag.
"I know they're Greg's parents and he's injured so he needs them there, but why are they staying at our Nicky's? They sound like a bunch of freeloaders. Next thing you know, Mrs Sanders will probably want a sit down dinner with us. Honestly the nerve of that woman." Taking a sip of her coffee, Jillian noted the expression on her husband's face. "Bill, don't you think it's time that we move on from this? With everything that happened to Greg, this should be the last thing on our minds. We're supposed to be here for Nick… after what happened to Greg."
Pushing himself to his feet, Bill stretched out his arms, feeling a cramp in his spine after their long flight to Las Vegas. It wasn't his idea to fly all the way out here. He would rather be knee deep in a muddy lake, fishing for tonight's dinner. He was practically forced onto the plane by his wife after she found out that the Sanders clan were staying at their son's house. He didn't see it as that big of a deal, but she hadn't stopped ranting about it since they left the driveway of their ranch.
"Bill." Jillian snipped at him. "Would you please just talk to me for a moment? Do you really want the Sanders' to see us like this?"
"We're not seein' the Sanders'." The angry man reminded her.
"He speaks." She remarked.
"Don't start." The Judge shot her a look. "Do you really think we should just forget it ever happened and move on? Do you think Nick has been able to do that?" He finally engaged with her, keeping his voice low to avoid passersby overhearing their conversation. "There's no way in hell I'm movin' on and lettin' that woman get away with it. I'm not about to stand by and let her get away with what she's done."
"She already has." Jillian put it bluntly to him. "There's nothing that we can do to make it right. There never will be. It's in the past. We just have to let it go and move on."
With an icy stare, Bill fumed, "How can you say that after everythin' that she put him through? Do you really think that Nick told us just so we could sweep it under the carpet and forget it ever happened? He told us because we're his parents. We're supposed to protect him. We failed him. She will pay." The Judge insisted, grabbing the handle to his bag. "Tell me somethin', if Nick was under age when he told us what happened to him, would you still just want to let it go and let her get on with her life, not caring what she's done to our boy?"
"I care." She felt tears burning in her eyes. "Of course I care. How can you even say that? I just know that there is nothing we can do to make it right, so why waste our time or what little life you have left? If he was younger, yes, it would be easier to deal with. We'd have more of a chance of prosecuting her or something… but it happened thirty years ago, Bill. There's nothing that we can do and you know it."
"There has to be." The man's voice broke with emotion. She hadn't seen him cry in years, but he looked as though he was on the verge of bursting right there in public. "What kind of father would I be if I stood by… if I just stand by and let somethin' like this happen to him?"
Jillian pursed her lips together, sniffling back her tears threatening to spill. She glanced at her phone as it beeped, giving out a soft sigh of relief. "Our taxi is outside."
Bill quickly wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket, so he could collect up their bags. He marched on ahead of his wife towards the exit of the airport, realising this was a bad idea. As much as he wanted to see his son and be there to support him during this difficult time, he really didn't think he was ready to face him after everything he told him the last time they were face to face.
The two of them sat in complete silence in the back of the taxi, watching the other cars going by all the way to their hotel.
Bill gave the man a rather large tip that made his day, insisting on carrying their own bags all the way up to their room on the sixtieth floor. He left his wife to square everything away, perching himself on the edge of the bed, looking out at the city below. He had to admit that Las Vegas did have a certain appeal to it. He had never seen buildings so big and beautiful before in his life. It was late afternoon and the fluorescent lights from the strip could already be seen in the setting sun. He could just make out the Bellagio fountains in the distance, remembering that Nick told him it was one of Greg's favourite spots.
"I don't blame you." The man spoke after what felt like hours of silence. He turned to watch his wife refolding all their clothes, mad at himself for ever letting it get between them like this. "It's not your fault that she… did what she did. I'm not blamin' you for it. I just… I want some justice for our son."
"I still hired her. I left her alone with him. I knew there was something off with him when we got home that night, but I didn't do anything about it."
"We can go round in round in circles with this for the rest of our lives; it still won't make it alright."
"There is no making it right, Bill." She sat herself on the bed beside him. "I know you want justice. I get that. All I've thought about is making her pay for what she did. But what kind of justice do we want? What punishment would be great enough that it would finally tip the scales in Nicky's favour and make it alright?"
Dropping his head into his hands, Bill shook his head, wishing he knew the answer to that. "I don't know. I wish I knew… but I can't think straight. I've always been terrified at the thought of our children ever havin' to face the courts to get some justice. There's no real justice for victims like this."
"I hate to say I told you so." The woman spoke softly. "The damage is already done."
"I was thinkin' back on my career the other night. Tryin' to figure out how many paedophiles had walked through my court doors and walked right out again with their freedom. I remember this one case. A young girl accused her father of," He couldn't even bring himself to say it out loud. "I sat there and watched her father's lawyer tearing apart her character, calling her a liar, attention seeker, a whore… her entire family abandoned her. She was there alone tryin' to get justice for somethin' that was done to her and no one… not even her own mother would believe her."
Jillian lifted her husband's hand from his lap, holding it between hers. "Did he get away with it?"
"Don't they always," Bill sniffled back his tears, lifting his head to look at her. "It didn't matter what I did. There's no justice for their victims. The damage is already done. The jury found him not guilty. Two… maybe three years later, same man on trial… different girl."
"It's not your fault." She spoke softly. She let her tears roll free, watching the city below with her husband for a moment longer. It looked so peaceful down there but she knew that the streets were full of violence. She hadn't had the chance to see Greg yet, but after everything her son said on the phone, she knew it wasn't safe to walk around down there.
"We better get washed up." Bill finally broke the silence. "Nicky will be here in an hour."
"Ow…" Greg winced, trying to squirm away. "Ow… ow… ow…"
"I'm sorry. Sorry." Nick carefully cleaned the wound just above his partner's eye, gritting his teeth together as the younger man recoiled away from him. "It'll just take a second."
"You heard me say ow, right?"
"I'm almost done. Hold still." He quickly grabbed the fresh bandage from the counter beside him, securing it into place with a few strips of tape. "There… I think that's the last one cleaned and freshly bandaged. Your eye is almost healed up. How's your vision, is it still blurry?"
With a playful smile, Greg replied. "No, Doctor Sexy. I can see every one of your delicious curves just fine. But I have this itch up my butt that could really use some of your attention."
"Ew," Nick belly laughed, relieved to see a sign of the old Greg back in his presence. "I've told you before and I'll tell you again, it's not sexy when you say butt like that, G. You seriously need to work on your pick up lines. The biggest turn off is the fact your parents are in the very next room. That's gross. I hope that's not one of your secret fantasies."
"Why not? I had to listen to them doing it right down the hall from me for most of my teen years. Don't you think it's time for a little payback?" He playfully wiggled his eyebrows, fiddling with the clasp to Nick's belt with his one good hand. "In fact I actually walked in on them once. I was early home from school. I called through the house but there was no answer, so I made my way to the kitchen to grab a snack while I did my homework and saw my Dad completely bare arsed with my mother bent over the kitchen…"
"Ah… stop talkin'." Nick quickly put his finger to the man's lips, before he attempted to pry his hand away from the loose belt of his jeans. "You can't be tellin' me that with your folks out there." He whispered.
"How do you think they made me?" Greg continued to tease the older man. "You know they've probably done it half a dozen times in that guest bed of yours. Even with all the bumps in that old mattress."
"Please stop." Nick continued to squirm. "My ears are burnin' here, G."
A giggle escaped Greg's lips. "You're so adorable."
"Down boy." Nick warned him, still relieved to see his spirit back. "You're gonna pop your shoulder out of its socket again and I'm meetin' my folks soon and really don't want to think about your parents doin' it while I'm tryin' to bring them around to the idea of meetin' them."
"My Mom will probably do that for you. She's never been great at first impressions."
Nick joined him in a laugh. "You've got to give her credit for coverin' her verbal diarrhoea with nervous overtalkin'. I can't even remember what the first thing she said to me was because she immediately started talkin' about the weather, traffic, the house redecoration and the neighbour's dog messin' in their yard."
"It wasn't good." Greg made a soft smirk sound. "At least you like her now. Most people end up hating her and refuse to be in the same room with her again after such a terrible first impression." He checked his bruises in the mirror for himself, sealing down the pieces of tape Nick had been reluctant to put pressure on to avoid hurting him further. He still looked like a Frankenstein monster, but his lumpy jaw was beginning to take shape once again. He still hated the sight of all the cuts and bruises. He looked like a walking bruise with his clothes of and he was sick of the sympathetic looks people kept giving him.
"One more thing before I go… we should probably check your bruises too." Nick reached for the hem of the younger man's t-shirt, attempting to lift it up.
"Don't fuss." He held it securely in place. "I'm fine."
"I just want to see the bruises on your ribs."
"They're fine… would you stop." Greg gently pushed him away from him. "I get enough of this from my mother. I don't need it from you too."
"You were about to strip off my clothes to have sex with me right here, but you won't even let me see under your shirt?"
"Don't start." With an icy glare, Greg turned for the door. "I'm going back to bed since you're done with your nurse maid routine."
"Fine." Backing away from Greg, the man made quick work to clear away the bandages and antiseptic, stuffing it all in the drawer beside the sink. "Will you be okay for a few hours while I take my folks out for somethin' to eat?"
"Safe as houses." Greg tapped his knuckles against the sturdy wall of Nick's bathroom. He liked it here, but he really couldn't wait to move into their own house. "I think my Mom's cooking anyway. You don't mind them crashing at your place for another night?"
"Are you kiddin'?" Nick gave him a genuine smile. "I love havin' ya'll here. I can't wait for you to officially move in with me." He moved in to kiss him, feeling Greg's hands pushing him away rather than pulling him closer.
"Not right now." Slipping out of his reach, Greg made a beeline for the door. "I think I'm gonna get some sleep rather than staying up to wait for these pain killers to kick in. Have fun with your folks." He pushed the door to Nick's bedroom closed, crawling straight into bed. He shifted and squirmed on top of the covers for a few minutes, trying to find a position that didn't cause him more pain. It felt like he was fighting a losing battle, but then came the long hard process of trying to sleep without reliving the nightmare from that alley.
Nick cleared away the rest of the things in the bathroom, checking his shirt in the mirror for the hundredth time. He was more nervous meeting his own parents then entertaining the Sanders' in his front room right now.
He sighed as he made a move for the door, wishing his parents had listened to him and just stayed in Texas. The last thing he wanted to do right now was leave Greg alone.
"I love these." After helping herself to another handful, Mrs Sanders purred, "Mm, they're just so yummy."
"I thought you were watching your figure." Daniel glanced over the paper he was reading, smiling as Nick returned. "Hey, how's the patient?"
Nick shrugged his shoulders together. "He's still avoidin' talkin' about it."
"Things will get better." Jean Sanders consoled the concerned boyfriend. She stuffed another chocolate coated raisin into her mouth, giving him a reassuring smile. "Greg's always been stubborn like me. He'll push you away to show you how brave he can be, but deep down he doesn't want you to stop fussing."
"It's their way of keeping your attention". Daniel spoke from experience.
Jean playfully slapped her husband's thigh, giving him a smile. "He's just feeling a bit vulnerable right now and needs to know that you won't leave him. He adores you, sweetheart. Never stops talking about you. We can't get a word in edgeways once he starts talking about you. Speaking of," She turned her husband's wrist to look at the time. "Shouldn't you be off by now? Your mother will be wondering where you are if you don't get a move on. You said you'd meet them at seven, right?"
"Yeah," He groaned. He told them not to come but after they found out that the Sanders' were staying at his place, they were rather insistent on making an appearance of their own. "Can you keep an eye on him for me? And call me if he needs anythin'." He double checked that he had his phone on him and that it still had some charge.
"We will." Daniel promised him.
"Don't worry, he'll be fine." Jean assured him, climbing up from her seat to give him some encouragement. "Go on, we'll all be fine without you for a few hours. I can whip something up for us to eat in the kitchen or we could always order in from this new place that just opened up." She snatched up the menu from the coffee table.
"Oh not that one." Nick cautioned her, fetching his wallet from his jacket. "Food always arrives cold and everythin' tastes like cardboard. The good places are on my fridge. I think Greg's actually highlighted all his favourite meals."
Jean gave him a smile. "That's my Greg."
"Here." He fished out a few bills for her. "This should cover the three of you."
"Oh no," She backed away, shaking her head. "We couldn't possibly. We've already taken so much since we arrived. Honestly sweetheart, we're fine. Save that for your parents. Don't worry about us, we'll be fine." Jean gave him a reassuring smile as he tucked the money back into his wallet. "Your mother must be dying to see you. Where are you taking them?"
"Catherine told me about this new place that my Dad might like. Home comfort cookin'. Roasts with all the trimmings. My Dad isn't a fan of anythin' too fancy, so it should make him feel right at home." Nick found himself a smart jacket to wear. He pulled it on over his shoulders, smiling at Mrs Sanders as she neatened up the collar for him like a doting mother.
"Well have fun and don't worry about a thing." She pulled him into her arms, giving him a hug he so desperately needed. "You deserve a break after everything that you've been through. Honestly this whole time we've been here, I've been more worried about you taking all of this on rather than our patient back there. Greg shows every emotion. I know how to treat his pain, anger or how to comfort him when he's sad. He's easy. You however," She pulled back to look into his eyes. "I've never known someone who would rather hide every emotion they feel then show them. I see glimpses of what you're feeling but then you hide it behind a smile. You can talk to me if you want, sweetheart."
"I'm fine, Mrs S." He presented her with one of his familiar smiles. He feared that if he opened up now he might start crying and wouldn't be able to stop. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
"Take your time. Relax. Try to enjoy yourself." Jean got the door for him, trying not to show him her concern. She wanted to hug him again, but she feared she'd mess up his crease free shirt. "Say hello to your parents for us. Jillian and…"
"Bill." He filled in the blank for her. "I will." Nick waved to her from the driver's side of his truck, eager to get on the road. He saw her in his rear view mirror as he pulled out, giving her a wave from the end of the drive.
"What should we order then?" Daniel looked over the menus pinned to the Texan's fridge.
"That poor boy." Jean locked up the door, joining her husband in the kitchen. "He's hanging by a thread."
"He's fine."
"You would say that because you're a man. You only see what's on the outside of someone. You don't see the things they're trying to hide." Mrs Sanders put her back to the counter, staring at a picture of Nick on the wall. "Nicky has deeply hidden depths to him. He looks like he's holding it together on the outside because that's what he wants us to see, but on the inside he's an emotional wreck. I can crack through his hard exterior; I know I can with a little more time."
"Honey, you're a school teacher not a psychiatrist." Daniel reminded her.
"Fat load of good his shrink has been."
"He doesn't need the Jean Sanders Shock Treatment Special." He retrieved one of the menus from beneath a magnet. "How about a pizza? Greg loves pizza."
"Typical man only thinking of his stomach." Rolling her eyes, Jean reluctantly gave in to the rumble of her stomach, looking over the menu with her husband. "I'll eat anything that doesn't have anchovies." She shuddered at the thought. "I can't stand those things."
"Nick hates 'em too." Greg squeezed in between them. He couldn't ignore the rumble of his stomach any longer. "Please don't crack my boyfriend."
"Greg sweetheart, you should be resting. You can't heal if you don't rest." It broke her heart seeing her son's face all bruised and battered. She would trade places with him in a heartbeat if she could.
"I've been resting. I'm bored of resting." He took hold of the menu, looking over all his options. "Besides I'm hungry and you're standing in my boyfriend's kitchen." Greg flashed his father a familiar smile. "Can you get me something with chicken? Nothing too spicy though my mouth is still in agony. I felt like my whole jaw was on fire just brushing my teeth earlier."
Jean jumped to attention. "You need more pain killers."
"I'm dosed up to my eyeballs as it is. It's fine." He put his mother's mind to rest. "Nothing a little TLC can't cure."
"You're going to milk this for as long as possible, aren't you?" Jean chuckled softly, smiling proudly at her boy. "You learnt from the best."
Daniel shook his head. "I always knew it was a bad idea to let you teach him how to talk."
"Alright then," Jean clapped her hands together. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Daniel, chicken pizzas all around. Tell them to make it snappy. Do you think Nicky has any decent movies we can watch while we wait?"
"Just don't check the stash in his sock drawer." Greg cautioned, fetching himself a glass of water. "Well you would probably like it. It's very tame porn. Not a lot of flesh or action. Rookie stuff. He's always been kind of a prude about his porn."
"Not like you then. I was forever cleaning out your porn magazines from your school bag or your bedroom to stop your grandparents from discovering them. I should have known you were gay long ago with the amount of pictures of naked men stashed in that desk drawer of yours." Laughing at her husband's discomfort, Jean led her son through to the front room. "Your father's starting to blush. He's still not used to the idea of having an openly gay son."
"I'm used to it." Since the moment he discovered the truth about his son, Daniel had been on edge ready to defend him at every turning. He knew the world he was in wasn't as accepting as he wanted it to be. At first he wanted him to hide the truth or be more discreet for fear of him being beaten up, but if he learned anything from his son's recent attack, it was that he was stronger than he thought.
"I think it was more the porn speech that did it." Greg gave his father an apologetic smile.
"He loves us really." Grinning widely, Jean dropped to the sofa, starting to flick through the one hundred and fifty channels Nick had set up. She patted the sofa seat beside her, gently putting her arm around her son. "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart."
"For the porn stash?" Greg winced away as she playfully swatted him. "Hey, don't bruise my bruises."
"You know exactly what I mean." Jean released her hold on her son. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, relieved she still had him in her life. She didn't know what she would do without him. She didn't want to imagine what life would be like without him. "Talk to me, sweetheart. What's going on in that head of yours?"
"Too much."
"They'll be here in thirty minutes." Daniel reported, dropping to the sofa beside his son. "What's going on?"
"Greg was just about to unload all his head problems."
Greg chuckled softly. "I don't think there's enough time in the world to unload all my head problems. I'm glad you guys are here though." He presented them with a smile. "For Nick more than me. He has way more head problems than me."
"He seems alright." Daniel answered, receiving a glare from each of them. "What? He does."
"Typical man." Jean shook her head, gently tapping her son's leg. "C'mon then, talk to your parents. We'll only be here for the next few days."
"I'm fine." Greg insisted, catching a look in his mother's eyes. "I am. Yeah I'm still a little jumpy, but that's natural, right? You were jumpy for days after your tiny car accident."
"The glass shattered all over my lap." She reminded him of the horror she went through. "I was just looking out to see if any cars were coming then crack, glass all over my lap. I was too traumatised to even drive it home."
"See, being jumpy is natural." Greg decided to keep the mood light rather than reliving and sharing his own trauma. "Sleeping isn't very easy because of the pain, but that will all go away soon anyway. Compared to most of their victims, I got off lightly. I just can't wait for this swelling to go down so I can get back to work."
"See." Daniel smiled at his wife. "Told you he was fine."
"It's nice." Settling into his seat in the leather covered booth, Bill Stokes admired the various pieces of wall art, before he turned his attention to the open fireplace in the middle of the restaurant. "It's got a homely setup for a place in the centre of town. Have you been here before?"
"No, not yet. Catherine from work, she told me about it." Nick set down their drinks in the centre of the table, sitting himself on the other side of the booth. "I was thinkin' about bringin' Greg here, but he hasn't really been up to it lately."
"Oh yeah, how's he doin' now?" Bill grabbed his ice cold beer, taking a soothing sip.
"Better." Nick nodded his head slightly. "His bruises are healin' up nicely."
"How long was he in hospital?"
"Not that long. It was just a few days before I got to bring him home. They were worried about his eye mostly. Thought he might lose his sight if the swellin' didn't go down. He's been strugglin' to do anythin' with his arm in a cast. He finally got the sling off his other shoulder though, so he can do a few things by himself again. He can't wait to get back to work. His parents have helped me convince him to take a few weeks off to heal up before that happens though."
"His shoulder?" The Judge continued to show interest.
"Yeah, he dislocated his shoulder. He had to wear the sling for the first few days to keep it in place. It's still causin' him some pain. Doc said it could take two or three months before it's completely healed up. And his other arm had a fracture. The cast doesn't come off for another few weeks yet."
Bill cringed at the thought. "Damn that's not exactly somethin' you want to be dealin' with for a long time. Make sure you tell him we're prayin' for him."
"Will do." Nick gave him a slight smile. He quickly climbed to his feet as he spotted his mother coming, letting her slide into the booth on his side. "Did you find the ladies alright, Mama?"
"Oh yes. And very clean too which is always a good sign." Jillian pecked a kiss to her son's cheek, removing her jacket as she sat herself down. "It's very warm in here. Is that fire real?" She motioned towards it. "It's beautiful."
"I think it's fake." Bill squinted his eyes together to get a better look. "It has to be with all that glass around it."
"So, what did I miss?" She reached for her wine glass in the middle of the table, looking between the two men. "Bill, did you tell Nicky that you sold your truck?"
Bill shook his head. "Nope."
"You sold the truck?" Nick gave him a curious look.
"Yep."
Jillian giggled softly, shaking her head at her husband. "He never drives it anymore anyway and it's just taking up space. We've decided to start downsizing our lives a little. Let's face it, we're not getting any younger and we don't want all of you to have to deal with all of our junk after we're gone. I had a hard enough time trying to clear out my mother's house after she passed away. I think we still have a load of her old furniture stored away in the garage. We held onto a lot of it just in case any of you wanted it for your new houses when you moved out, but you all went and bought your fancy flat pack furniture."
"We still have your old crib propped up behind Gwen's dirt bike." Bill added.
Nick forgot about his sister's teenage rebellion phase.
Gwen spent all of her savings on the dirt bike just so she could hang out with her new boyfriend. She barely rode the thing more than two weeks though. The novelty wore off after she discovered her boyfriend was more interested in bikes then her.
"You still have that old thing?"
"Yep." Bill nodded. "No chance we'll sell it though. The things falling apart and completely rusted over. We told her to deal with it when she was packin' up to move away, but with the baby it slipped her mind."
"I suppose some motorcycle enthusiast might be interested in taking it off our hands." Jillian suggested, taking another sip of her wine. "I don't suppose Greg would be…"
"I don't think Greg is really into motorbikes." Nick shook his head, wondering if Greg even knew how to ride one. He sat back as their waitress finally came over, setting down some empty glasses along with a jug filled with water. "We didn't order…"
"It's free. Free water jug for the table with glasses." The waitress smiled at him. She tucked the serving tray under her arm, digging out the menus from the pocket of her apron. "I can see you already got yourself sorted with some drinks from the bar. Let me know if you want some refills. Today's specials are on the board right above the bar." She motioned behind her. "My name is Amara and I'll be your waitress for today."
"Amara." Jillian smiled at the young woman. "That's a beautiful name."
"Thank you." She smiled at the older woman. "Can I get you guys any bread sticks or crackers before you take a look at the menus?"
"We're alright, thank you." Bill dismissed her, waiting for her to leave the table. He fished out his reading glasses from his jacket pocket, taking a closer look at what they had on offer.
"How old do you think she is?" Jillian continued to watch their waitress.
Nick shrugged his shoulders together. "I don't know. Maybe… early twenties. Why?"
"I think your niece Samantha might make a good waitress."
Her husband immediately smirked. "Not likely. She's never worked a day in her life. She'll probably get fired within the first five minutes for complaining too much."
"Little Sammy?" Nick gave the two of them a curious look.
Samantha used to idolise him when he was still at the ranch. She wanted to be a part of everything he was doing, even his algebra homework that made no sense to either of them.
"Not so little anymore." The Judge spoke softly, lowering his menu to the table. "There's somethin' your mother and I need to discuss with you, Nicholas."
Nick gulped, feeling as though he was in trouble from his tone of voice.
"Bill," His mother hissed, clearly trying to silence him without showing her anger. "Not now. We're not here for that. We're here to have a meal together."
"It's important."
"What uh," Nick's confusion continued to grow. "What's it about?"
"Please Bill," Jillian gave her husband a pleading look. "Not now."
Looking between his son and his wife, Bill felt his heart aching for the two of them. He wanted to get to the bottom of what happened to his son, but he couldn't bear the thought of causing him more pain than he had already gone through. He also couldn't bear the thought of butting heads with his wife for much longer.
He was fighting a losing battle.
The Judge gave out a soft sigh, lifting his menu from the table to continue reading. "You're absolutely right. Let's order some food before we all die of starvation."
Sorry about the wait, distracted by replaying 'The Last of Us' and binge watching 'Fear the Walking Dead' over my holidays. Plenty of tearful material to prepare myself to write the beginning of this chapter... Thanks so much for reading! See you again soon for the next one.
~ Holly