no to some time with Will too.
Aaron tsked. “Spiders aren’t that bad, he says.” He rolled his eyes. “This from the man who never had a wolf spider as a roommate.”
“No, I had those little tiny black spiders.” Will put up a finger. “And I would argue that those are worse, because at least the wolf spider cast a shadow and was so big you could hear it coming. The little ones? Not so much.”
“Uh-huh.” Aaron arched an eyebrow. “Because that’s so comforting when one falls out of the shirt I just put on, and it actually thumps on the floor.”
“Oh my God.” I shuddered, chafing my arms. “I’m going to have nightmares because of you.”
They both chuckled, because fuck them.
“Enough about spiders.” I shot Aaron a pointed look. “Or I swear, I will make you sing Itsy Bitsy Spider next time I have you tied up.”
His eyes widened.
Will grinned. “That’s not really a deterrent for me, so—ow!” He laughed, rubbing his arm where Aaron had elbowed him.
“You guys. Jesus.” I rolled my eyes.
They laughed again, and we all moved from the kitchen to the living room. They settled on the couch while I took the armchair, and conversation wandered away from spiders (thank fuck).
“So what’s the deal with your dad’s attic?” Aaron asked, tucking his feet under him as he leaned against Will.
“Oh. Right.” I pressed my elbow into the armrest. “He just has a lot of stuff. Like, a metric shitload of stuff. Will and I already went through a lot of it, and my brother made some progress, but there’s still so much. And I’d like to at make some more headway on it before my siblings come. The more I get done before they get here, the less reason any of them have to stay.”
Aaron and Will both nodded.
“If you need help again,” Will said, “let me know.”
“If it’s on a weekend, I’m happy to help.” Aaron frowned. “Work permitting, anyway.”
“You really end up putting in a lot of hours, don’t you?” I asked.
He shrugged. “It’s what I signed up for. And I do like what I do. There’s just times when it’s really, really demanding.”
“You don’t say.” I paused. “Okay, speaking of your job, there’s something I’ve been dying to ask because I’ve always wondered.”
Aaron watched me, eyebrows up. “Shoot.”
I held his gaze, trying to choose my words carefully. “To put it bluntly, how do you handle defending someone who’s obviously guilty?” I cocked my head. “I mean, there have to be times when you know damn well the guy is guilty as all hell, but you still have to defend him. How do you do that?” I cringed a little, expecting him to get, well, defensive.
To my surprise, Aaron shrugged. “I’m not there to prove that he’s innocent. I’m there to make sure the prosecution is doing their job to prove he’s guilty.”
I blinked.
He sat back against Will. “The way the system works, it’s the prosecution’s job to prove the defendant is guilty. I’m there to force them to do that.”
“So…you don’t have to actually believe the defendant is innocent?”
“Oh God, no.” He shook his head. “And when we lived in Chicago, I dealt with a lot more of the horrific cases. The kind of stuff they make TV shows about. And holy shit, I’d get raked over the coals in the paper, or on social media, or whatever, because people thought I was this monster for defending murderers and rapists.”
Will put his hand on Aaron’s leg, and Aaron laced their fingers together. They exchanged glances, and an odd look passed between them—one of those subtle things couples seemed to hone after years together, like Will was reassuring Aaron and Aaron was telling him he was grateful for it. All in a glance.
Facing me again, Aaron went on, “That’s part of why we decided to move someplace smaller. When Will got the job at the university, we jumped at the chance and came here, and now my caseload is a lot less horrible than it was before. I mean, I still get awful ones—every town has crime—but it’s just…less.”
“Wow, I bet.” I took a drink and shifted in my chair.
“And I mean, it’s demoralizing sometimes when the prosecution can’t get their shit together, and I end up winning even when we all know the defendant is guilty.”
“That happens?”
“Oh yeah. I had one back in Chicago. Really high-profile case. Attempted murder.” He sighed, shaking his head. “The prosecution had this one damning piece of evidence