Somebody to Hold (Tyler Jamison #2) - April Wilson Page 0,76
we can speak without words. He looks so handsome in his suit and tie, standing tall and resolute, looking invincible. My throat tightens as I stare at his beautiful face. I’m so damn proud of him, of his courage and his principles. I’m so proud he’s mine, and I’m his. It’s killing me not to go to him, to stand by his side.
Tyler gives me a small, understanding smile before he nods to his mother and sister, and to Sam. Then he steps into the courtroom with Troy.
Sam gives me a nudge when it’s our turn to enter the gallery. The four of us walk through the open double doors into the large public space, which is already more than half-filled. A group of people seated to our right wave at us, signaling they saved seats for us.
As we sit, I scan the row of chairs filled with a number of familiar faces, but I don’t recall exactly who they all are except for Miguel. “Who are all these people?” I ask Sam, who is seated to my left.
He rattles off names faster than I can keep up. “Mack Donovan, Erin O’Connor, Dominic and Sophie Zaretti, Calum and Bridget McIntyre, Liam McIntyre, Lia McIntyre and Jonah Locke, Jamie McIntyre and Molly Ferguson, Jake and Annie McIntyre.”
“That’s a lot of McIntyres,” I say.
Sam nods. “This family is tight. When one is in trouble, the rest come running, and they consider Tyler family.”
Shane and Cooper arrive a moment later, taking the seats we saved for them, Cooper sitting next to Sam, and Shane beside Beth.
Ingrid is seated to my right. Her hands are folded in her lap, and she’s clearly prepared as she clutches a tissue.
I lay my hand on hers. “All these people are here to show their support for Tyler.”
Ingrid sniffs and nods. “I just wish there was something I could do for him,” she says.
I can’t see her eyes behind her dark sunglasses, but I have no doubt they’re filled with pain and sorrow. “Just be brave. That’s all he’d ask of any of us.”
Then my father walks in, dressed in a suit, no indication that he’s a judge himself. He sits in the empty chair directly behind me and squeezes my shoulder.
I turn back and whisper, “I didn’t know you were coming.”
Having my dad here, knowing he came to support Tyler, means the world to me. It means he’s accepted wholeheartedly that Tyler is my partner.
“I’m here for the both of you,” he says. He glances across the room at Tyler, who’s seated with Troy. “Tyler’s a good man.”
There’s a long docket of cases to be heard this afternoon. Tyler’s case is just one of many, and we have to sit through a number of them before Tyler’s name is called.
When the judge announces his case, Tyler stands, Troy at his side.
Immediately, Tyler catches my gaze. As we stare at each other, I swear he can see right into my soul. Even halfway across the room, the force of him touches me.
The judge presiding over today’s cases is an older woman with black hair threaded with silver and pulled back into a bun. She slips on a pair of gold-rimmed glasses and skims the sheet of paper in her hands before glancing at Tyler. “Mr. Jamison?”
Tyler nods. “Yes, Your Honor.”
“And that’s your counsel there with you? Mr. Spencer?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Troy says.
The judge continues speaking, but I zone out on her words as I focus on Tyler. He looks so dashing, so polished and professional. So heroic. He looks invincible, but above all, he looks at peace.
My nerves are fraying, and I’m aching to stand up and tell the judge what a farce this is, that Tyler was only protecting me. He’s a hero, not a criminal. That it’s Brad Turner who should be standing before the judge, not Tyler. It’s all so unfair.
Ingrid turns her palm and links her fingers with mine, squeezing my hand tightly. “Everything’s going to be all right, Ian. Have faith.”
Have faith.
That’s what Tyler has told me time and time again. But how can I have faith when the very person I need—like I need my next breath—is about to be convicted of a crime and sentenced to jail?
Tyler’s gaze remains steadfast on the judge, his expression stoic. He appears calm and resigned, while I feel like I’m about to implode.
“Seven days in the Cook County Jail,” the judge says as she raps her gavel on the bench.