It was the Tuesday after Labor Day—the day I’d been looking forward to for months, and now dreaded.

“You coming?” Trent poked his head in my office door.

“Do I have to?”

He smiled sadly. “Nope. But if you’re ever going to make it through this, you need to start holding your head up high and taking your lumps.”

I sighed and tossed my pen onto my desk. “Fine.”

We rode the elevator together up to the executive floor. The “announcement” of the names of the new partners was always done in the conference room before popping the champagne. But the people about to be named had been informed before Labor Day, because they had to write a big fat check to formally buy into the partnership. Needless to say, my phone hadn’t rung over the weekend.

Trent punched my arm as the elevator halted. “Chin up, buddy.”

I shoved my hands in my pockets. “Sure thing.”

The fourteenth floor conference room was crammed with people, so we had to stand out in the hall, which I was relieved about. Juliette was packed in near the door, along with the other sardines. When she saw us, she squeezed her way out to us. She took one look at my face and frowned.

“You still haven’t heard from her?”

I shook my head. It was pretty funny that we were standing and waiting for the announcement that someone other than me had made partner, and Juliette knew that wasn’t the reason for my long face.

She rubbed my arm. “She’ll come around.”

I could tell from Juliette’s face that she didn’t even believe what she was saying. But she was a good friend, and I didn’t have the energy to argue anyway.

“Thanks.”

For the next twenty minutes, I stood while they announced the names of the new partners. I kept my eyes straight ahead, even though I felt others watching to see how I’d react. When it was finally over and the first bottles of champagne had been opened, I leaned over to Trent. “I’m gonna get out of here.”

He slapped my shoulder. “Yeah, of course. You did what you had to do. No reason to prolong the torture. Order dinner at seven?”

I shook my head. “Actually, I’m just going to call it a day.” I smiled halfheartedly. “One of the benefits of derailing from the partner track—doesn’t matter if I put in fourteen hours every day.”

Trent nodded. “Take it easy, buddy.”

Outside on the street, I took a deep breath and loosened my tie. The air had been stifling up there, but I knew if I went home at this early hour, I’d wind up drinking to numb my thoughts. So I decided to head over to Bud’s house. I’d spoken to him a few times, but hadn’t been to see him since the weekend in Connecticut.

I found him in the garage with a three-foot ruler hanging out of his cast and a saw next to him on the table.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Got this goddamn thing stuck. I need to saw it off because I keep whacking shit as I walk.”

I chuckled and walked over to examine what the heck was going on. “Why is it in there to begin with?”

“I had an itch. I’m sweating in this thing, and it’s making my skin itchy as hell.”

“Did you try pulling it out?”

“Oh, that’s a great idea. Wish I would’ve thought of it.” He rolled his eyes. “Whatta you think, I’m a dumbass? Of course I tried to pull it out—it’s stuck.”

“Let me give it a try before we saw it off.”

It took about ten minutes and some olive oil for lube, but I got the thing out.

Bud shook his arm. “Don’t know that I’ll be able to make the eight weeks they want me to keep this thing on.”

“Take it day by day, and do the best you can.”

Bud smirked. “I believe that was my line to you for half your life.”

I nodded. “True.”

We went into the house, and Bud pointed to the watering can he’d had since I was a kid. “Help me do the inside ones, will ya? If I use my other hand, I spill half the water on the floor. If I use the hand with the cast, it drips down my arm and makes me itchy.”

“Why don’t you sit down and relax. I’ll hit them all.”

Bud pulled out a stool on the other side of the counter while I filled the can. “Anything new on the charges in Connecticut?”

I shook my head. “Nah. We filed some paperwork and requested a conference. But I don’t expect to hear anything for a few weeks at least.”

He nodded. “Things with Autumn smooth over?”

I frowned. “She doesn’t even want to talk to me.”

My eyes caught with Bud’s before I started to water his million houseplants. He was quiet for a while, which didn’t surprise me. Bud wasn’t a man who talked for the sake of filling silence.

“I bet she’s hurting.”

As if I didn’t feel enough like shit. “Of course she’s hurting. And that’s my fault.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “But let me ask you something. Don’t you think she’d probably be hurting just running into the guy? Even if you hadn’t swung?”

“Yeah. You should’ve seen the way she looked when he walked up—like she’d seen a ghost. What happened might’ve been six years ago, but it was two seconds ago in that moment.”

“Okay…so let’s say you’d handled things differently. She’d probably still be a bit on edge for a while. What would you do about that?”

“What do you mean, what would I do about it? I’d talk to her, listen to whatever she wanted to get out. I wouldn’t fucking leave her side, if that made her feel better.”

“Okay… And yet you’re here and not at her place tonight.”

I finished watering a fern that was probably as old as I was and set the can down. “She doesn’t believe violence is ever justified. She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“And what do you believe?”

“I believe the guy deserves a hell of a lot worse than I gave him. But that’s beside the point. It wasn’t my choice to make. I made a mistake.”

Bud smiled. “Damn. Why couldn’t it be this easy to get you to admit stuff when you were a teenager?”

I sighed. “I thought I’d grown past this shit. I really did.”

“I’m not so sure I would’ve done anything different in your shoes, son. This isn’t a case of you getting into a fight over the dumb shit you used to brawl over. A man hurt your woman—a man who never got what he had coming to him—and you wanted to change that. Violence might never be justified, but sometimes it feels a hell of a lot like justice.” Bud’s eyes met mine. “I take it you’re in love with Autumn?”

I nodded. “I was never sure if I was in love before. But now I realize when you are, you damn well know it.”

“Do you remember in eighth grade when you got in trouble for cutting some advanced math class they had you in, and the guidance counselor told you to just drop the class because you wouldn’t be able to handle the work anyway?”

“Mr. Schultz. Guy had the worst breath.”

“Did you drop the class?”

“No, I got a hundred on every test.”