Scales: Of Justice (Broken But ... Mending Book 3) (28 page)

Her whole body lit up. She smiled up at him. “Hey,” she whispered, “I didn’t see you come in.”

His gaze was steady and searching. “You were deep in contemplation mode.”

“Yeah, a lot of that going on this morning.”

“And how are you?”

“Fine.” She straightened, wanting to break down the strangeness between them. “Actually better than fine. I feel good. Younger. Freer.”

“Good. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

Jenna spoke up then, taking the attention off them and back to the program. They’d be given an hour to finish up their projects as several were done already and she’d be speaking with them at the back. Mid-morning, she had guest speakers coming in to talk to the group. There’d be a final lecture and time for questions, then they were free to go.

“What the hell are we going to do about this project?” she muttered. “I’m of half a mind to not do it.”

He laughed. “I hear you. But I think that it’s supposed to be an important step for our growth.”

“Great, another one. So not. So, suggestions.” She gave him a wry look. “We have less than an hour.”

He grinned. “I do. It’s more me doing something.”

“Hey, I’m good with that,” she joked.

“Okay, so let’s ask you. I need a sheet of paper that has some of the toughest things written down on it. Something that you wish you didn’t have to write, but they are honest and true and painful.”

“Like Jenna’s lovely worksheets?”

“Sure, that would be perfect.”

She dug into her class assignments and pulled out three that had been ugly to do. “Will these work?” she asked.

“Yes, and this one…” he snagged up the ripped up sheet. “I gather the thing you wished you’d never done and ripped out of here was killing your father.”

She sighed and nodded.

“Good.” He stood up. “Have your coffee. I got this.”

And he took her worksheets and walked out of the room.

She watched him leave until he turned down the hallway. She didn’t have a clue what to do now. Normally she was the one who did everything. Even double-checking that everything was done correctly. Instead, this time she sat there and let him do everything.

As she sat, she realized
she
had transformed in the last five days. Even if Weaver was doing the final project for them both, Paris felt she should do something too. But nothing came to mind. No, Jenna had said
visual
. How the hell did a non-artistic person do something visual? Maybe she’d actually fail this part of the workshop.

She didn’t have a picture of Delaney anywhere that she could use right now but if she had, she’d glue Weaver’s face over the top.

Although that was an insult to Weaver.

Instead of making her cringe, she was okay with that. So maybe with this project she wasn’t going to do well. That was all right too. She’d already done phenomenally well.

She’d have to take what she could get. Besides, she was well satisfied with her progress. Delighted actually.

An hour passed.

And another half an hour. No Weaver, and so far Paris hadn’t been called to the back.

Good thing.

Then Jenna walked toward her. “Paris and Weaver – your turn.”

Paris stood up and walked to the far corner where Jenna had set up a space for the projects. She took a glance around the room. No Weaver.

Okay, here it went. She took a deep breath and said, “I didn’t do the final project.”

Jenna’s gaze widened, but not in shock. Surprise and then…joy shone in that gaze. As if Paris had done something wonderful.

She motioned for Paris to sit. “Now tell me how you feel.”

“Like I didn’t do what I was supposed to do,” she confessed. “I don’t feel like I failed, but that I should have tried harder.”

“And when were you going to do that?” Jenna joked. “You’ve been through a lot lately.”

“True, and honestly I owe my transformation to Weaver,” she said. “He’s been working on me since the beginning of the week. I know about the paper that he set aside for me. It caused me a lot of trouble at the beginning, but then I forgot about it. He was there when I needed him and often when I didn’t. He didn’t let me wallow or hide away even when I wanted to.”

She gazed down at the files sitting in front of Jenna on the table. Hers and Weaver’s folders both with photos clipped to the top. An idea came to her.

Someone called to Jenna. She stood up and excused herself for a moment and walked across the room.

Perfect.

Paris grinned, leaned forward, and snagged up both photos. Grabbing a pair of scissors sitting in a container with pens, she quickly cut what she’d wanted to and with the glue stick found in the same container, she glued the cut pieces together. Feeling like a kid in primary school but having fun anyway, she quickly created her visual.

There.

“Weaver…” Jenna said from behind her. “There you are.”

“Sorry, it took me a little longer to do this right.”

Paris looked up and gasped. “Oh my.”

Weaver had created dozens of tiny origami birds from her worksheets and tied a fine string – dental floss, maybe, to each one. They hung from several coffee cups glued together as a hanging mobile.

“That is…beautiful.” And it was. Delicate, imaginative, and so very appropriate.

“Stupid,” he said. “But the theme was transformation. So I took her worksheets. The ones she’d worked hard on, cried tears over, and generally worked her ass off to do and transformed them to the wishes and dreams she’d hoped for and was working toward. Created these tiny birds to remind her of those dreams and all the hard work she’d put in to get here…and that she had the ability to make them take off and be something.”

Paris barely heard, her eyes glued on the brilliant art piece.

The birds were tiny, maybe an inch across and created from folded paper done so well that she had a hard time seeing the details until she looked closer. He’d written little words on their wings. Children. Family. Freedom.

She sat back, stunned.

“That is amazing.” She laughed, tears forming in the corner of her eyes. “And the best use of those damn worksheets I’d ever seen.”

Jenna looked pained. “Hey, I worked hard to create those for you guys.”

“And you did a great job. They are intensive, deep, and painful. But this…” Paris put her hand to her breast. “This is the best thing ever.”

Impulsively, Paris jumped up and threw her arms around Weaver and kissed him. “Thank you.”

With his free arm, he hugged her close. “Don’t thank me. You lived this transformation.” He gave the art piece a little shake. “But I watched it happen. So it was very visual for me.”

Misty-eyed, she pulled him close. “Thanks. For being here all week. It was a tough time.”

“But you got through it,” he said firmly, “and you are in a much better place now.”

She nodded, but sensing a distancing from him, she tightened her grasp and looked him in the eye. “True. And I couldn’t have done it without you.” At his head shake, she grinned. “Sure, I
might
have done this without you, but I’m glad I didn’t have to. I’m glad you were there and that you stood by me. I know I put you in a tough spot, and so did Jenna and Delaney. I understand that you’re afraid I’m like your ex-wife and will walk away when I grow past this issue.” At his widening gaze, she shook her head and said, “But you’re wrong. I know what I want. I always have. I know how to get it most times, too.”

She paused, remembered what she had in her hands, and chuckled. “And just in case you thought that I am making this up, maybe you should see the corny amateur project I was about to hand over.”

“What?”

She handed him her project – upside down.

He glanced over at Jenna, who shrugged her shoulders as she hadn’t seen it yet, then slowly turned it over.

She’d taken both photos and glued them together and cut as they were, they were in the shape of a heart, both halves mostly complete but overlapping in a way that made them one.

“See,” she whispered, “You’re not in this alone. I’m here too.”

And she reached up and clasped his hand that held the photos.

He gazed at the photos, his throat moving, then slowly lifted his gaze to her. The moist brightness in them made her heart squeeze tight. He went to say something, only he couldn’t get the words out.

Snatching her up into his arms, he buried his head in her hair.

“You win,” he whispered. “Your project is the best.”

“No,” she whispered right back. “We both win. Because we found each other.”

And she pulled back to look up at him, adding, “Thank heavens.”

And with the photo crushed between them, he lowered his head and kissed her.

Thank you for reading Scales! If you enjoyed the book, please take a moment and leave a short review
here
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Dale Mayer

If you’d like to read about other books I’ve written, please turn the page.

KILL OR BE KILLED

Part of an elite SEAL team, Mason takes on the dangerous jobs no one else wants to do – or can do. When he’s on a mission, he’s focused and dedicated. When he’s not, he plays as hard as he fights.

Until he meets a woman he can’t have but can’t forget. Software developer, Tesla lost her brother in combat and has no intention of getting close to someone else in the military. Determined to save other US soldiers from a similar fate, she’s created a program that could save lives. But other countries know about the program, and they won’t stop until they get it – and get her.

Time is running out … For her … For him … For them …

DOWNLOAD
a
complimentary
copy of MASON? Just tell me where to
send it
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Go ahead. Take Charge of your life. Move forward…if you can…

Changing her future means letting go of her past. Karina heads to a weekend seminar and discovers the speaker is the person she needs to move on from. But she soon realizes bigger issues are facing her…

Brian has moved on, at least he’d believed he had… until he sees Karina in his audience…and realizes he’s been lying to himself.

Passion pulls them together, love binds them together, but a revengeful enemy determines to keep the two apart…and destroy them both.

H
er heart racing,
Karina pushed open the glass double doors and walked into the almost deserted pub. Her breath quickened as she searched the faces of the few patrons inside.
Had he left already?
Or was Brian Saunders somewhere here, drowning his sorrows? Wendy, Brian’s girlfriend of two years, had broken up with him and taken off for Europe, or some such thing. Karina knew she should feel sorry for him, but instead her mind wouldn’t stop pestering her.

Here’s your chance. One last shot to make him notice you before you go home and never see him again.

That the timing sucked wouldn’t stop her.

Besides, if anyone asked, she was just here having a drink. And she could use one. Her last exam was done. She’d finally finished school and damn if she didn’t feel like crying instead of cheering.

“Hey, Karina, thought you’d have booked it by now.”

She waved at one of several friends having a good time at a nearby table. Most of the students who’d finished exams had already left, and the few stragglers writing tomorrow were either cramming or here trying to forget about writing in the morning.

“Nah. Leaving in the morning. It’s a long drive and I
so
don’t want to deal with that tonight. Or the ferry.”

That elicited several nods. Anyone who lived on Vancouver Island knew about ferry woes to the mainland. She’d tossed around the idea of staying on the island, had even looked for work, but nothing had come of it, so she was heading home to Vancouver. Victoria, and the university in particular, would stay a happy memory. And, in some ways, a tough one.

She ordered a draft at the bar and turned around to take another look. Maybe she’d missed Brian in her first skim.

Shit. Ian Blackburn was here, too. And he’d seen her. Shit, shit, and triple shit. He’d always been super friendly to her, but there was something about him that gave her the creeps. And then last week she’d seen another side of him altogether. A professor in one of the classes they’d been in together had given Ian a poor grade on an assignment. Ian had lost it…big time. Someone had even called campus security to get him out of the lecture hall. He’d turned into something that terrified her and probably every other student there. She shuddered at the memory.