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matter.” I take another long drink. “It’s that I let him touch me without putting up much of a fight.”
    “This wasn’t just a teenage fling,” Lexie points out. “Maybe your body was reacting to the dictates of old feelings.”
    “God, no!”
    My vehement denial gains me two skeptical frowns. “No,” I repeat in a milder tone. I’m struggling enough as it is to rid myself of bad habits. I don’t need to add Mick to the list. Again . “It was temporary insanity…a hormonal response. That’s all. I do not have feelings for him,” I insist, uncertain whether I’m trying to convince my friends or myself.
    “Are you sure?” Jordyn questions. “Because you know, once a dog, always a dog, right?”
    “I know that and trust me, I’m sure.”
    She holds my stare another moment. “Good. Then you can take the case and show Mick you don’t give a shit about him.”
    “I’m not taking the case,” I say, draining the glass and clunking it down on the table for emphasis.
    “I can understand you not wanting to help Mick or Victor, but what about this boy?” Lexie inquires.
    If it were any other child, I’d jump at the chance to help. Only in this instance, I’d have to face my foster parents, deal with Victor, and endure more encounters with Mick. There would be no way to avoid that.
    “It’s a conflict of interest,” I say.
    “Maybe if you were appointed by the court to make an impartial recommendation on custody, but not if you were hired as the kid’s lawyer,” Jordyn responds with annoying logic.
    “The point’s moot. Even if I were so inclined, which I’m not, Victor doesn’t want me as legal counsel for his foster son,” I remind them, hanging on to that hopeful defense.
    “Mick will convince him. From all you’ve told us, they stick together like glue,” Lexie adds.
    “Whose side are you both on?”
    “Yours. Always,” Jord says in a compassionate tone. “But we know you, Dee. How many times have you told us that you never turn away a kid? That’s why your caseload has doubled in a year. Helping children is what you do. If you decline, no matter the reason, it will gnaw at you.”
    I slant a glance toward my perceptive friend. Jordyn’s brash, take-no-prisoners attitude often fools people into concluding she doesn’t have a soft or sensitive side, when the opposite is true. Not only is Jordyn fiercely loyal, but she’s also one of the most nurturing and caring people I know.
    “Do you really want to give Mick and Victor that much power over you?” she asks.
    Of course I don’t.
    But what to do?
    Take the case and protect Dwayde’s best interests?
    Or stay away from the torturous past and protect my own?

 

     
     

     
     
    “I SWEAR YOU HAVE A sixth sense for Isabelle’s lasagna.”
    My emotions are still boiling, but as I step into the foyer I summon up a grin for Victor and sniff the air appreciatively. Mexican lasagna. It smells like home and family. Both of which the Torreses have been to me for as long as I can remember.
    “If that’s an invitation for dinner, I’ll take it,” I say when I clasp Victor’s outstretched hand and lean in for a one-armed hug.
    “As if you need an invitation.”
    Suddenly attuned to the unusual quiet—no sounds of the active twelve-year-old, barking from the dog, or the blare of Gabi’s music—I ask, “Where is everybody?”
    “Isabelle’s in the kitchen,” Victor replies, closing the door behind me. “Dwayde went to the park with friends to shoot hoops and took Rufus with him. And Gabi’s supposedly at the library, studying.”
    My eyebrows raise in question. “You doubt that?”
    “Damn straight. The only thing Gabi is studying these days is boys.” He shakes his head. “She’s driving me around the bend, man. I should have fought harder for her to stay at home to finish out her last year of high school. But no, Mama and I gave in to her cries about a change of pace, thinking she might get over her grief faster by