Chapter 13: Club Business

The lawyer came to the cabin on Monday night.

He was the old brother's younger brother, a tired man in a corduroy jacket, and he spread Brock's petition across my kitchen table.

"Here's the problem," he said. "In this state, a man on the birth certificate is the legal father until a court says otherwise."

"Even if he's lying," I said.

"Especially if he's lying and nobody can prove it Thursday."

Gage stood at the stove with his arms folded.

"We have the lab report," he said.

"You have a report from a locker. Brock will say you planted it."

"The envelope is in his handwriting."

"He'll say you forged his handwriting. You're a felon, and he's a man in a tie."

I put my palm flat on the table.

"So what do we need?"

The lawyer looked at me for a long moment.

"Something that is his, that he can't call a plant. Something that was never in a locker."

He packed his folder and left, and the taillights went down the lake road.

I locked the door.

Gage was still at the stove.

"I'll find it," I said.

"We'll find it."

"Gage."

"Yes."

"Eli's at Dot's until morning."

He went very still.

"The terms said one night," he said.

"I know what they said."

I crossed the kitchen and took the dish towel out of his hand.

"I've changed my mind about the length."

He kissed me so hard that my back hit the cupboard.

His hands were under my shirt before the door finished closing in my head, and he lifted me onto the counter.

I got his jacket off.

I got his shirt over his head and put my mouth on the scar on his left forearm, and he swore.

"Bed," he said.

"Here."

"Hallie."

"Here. I've waited a week."

He pushed my jeans down and dropped to his knees on the kitchen floor.

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