Season of Redemption. Jenna Mindel
clean.” John handed her Prince Impatient’s paperwork. “It’s his first offense.”
“You mean the first time he’s been caught.” Kellie scanned the documents for his name. Ryan Marsh.
John gave her a tsk-tsk of warning. “Careful, Kellie, you haven’t been here long enough to be that cynical.”
Kellie shrugged. Her cynicism had been cultivated long ago. She flipped through Ryan’s papers. He’d been court-ordered for a substance abuse assessment as part of his conditional sentence for Operating While Visibly Impaired. A misdemeanor. It didn’t matter that he’d been hit with the lowest charge; the guy had been arrested for an alcohol-related crime. In her book, that made him a modern-day leper—treat with compassion but do not touch.
“Okay.” The lobby seemed to shrink before her eyes. She could do this. She knew how to control her reactions and her feelings. She’d done it for years.
Kellie glanced at Marci, sitting primly behind a sliding glass window that gave her an eyeful of Prince Impatient’s delectable pacing. “Give me a minute and then send him back.”
“Sure thing, Kellie.” Marci snapped her gum and gave her a wink.
Kellie took a steadying breath, picked up her doctored coffee and headed for her office. It was one thing meeting with kids, quite another to assess someone so handsome it hurt to look at him.
After five minutes of mental prep, she looked up to see her Prince Impatient literally darken her doorstep. If a person could look like a thundercloud personified, it was definitely Ryan Marsh.
“Come in, Ryan, please. I’m Kellie Cavanaugh, an intern here.” She extended her hand hoping he didn’t notice the way her voice had cracked.
He briefly returned her handshake.
Kellie didn’t cower at his strength or the fact that he towered over her. “Have a seat.”
He sat down, his knees brushing the front of her desk. So far, he hadn’t said a word, but she could feel his frustration and something darker emanating from him like a low growl. Shame? This bear of a man had been caught in his own snare.
“So, tell me why you’re here.”
His eyes widened slightly, and he wiped his palms against long, jean-clad thighs as if it took considerable effort to remain seated. His impatience hadn’t cooled as he gestured toward the paperwork on her desk. “You’ve got the court order.”
“Yes, I do. But I’d like to hear your story.”
“It’s so stupid.” His deep voice sounded remorseful rather than defensive.
Most stories she’d heard here were, but Kellie didn’t say that. She nodded for him to continue.
“How long will this take? I’ve got to get to work.”
Ryan had a job that he was worried about keeping. Definitely a good sign. Same with his questionnaire. He’d given a lot of right answers, but that didn’t mean they were true.
“About an hour or so. I have a series of questions to ask, so you might as well get comfortable.”
He nodded but didn’t relax.
“You were about to tell me what happened,” Kellie coaxed.
“I was at a party and had a few beers too many—” His gaze pierced her. “Something I don’t usually do. Anyway, a friend agreed to drive me home. While I was waiting for him in my truck, I must have dozed off. The police were called because of the noise, and the next thing I knew I was arrested.”
Kellie studied him. Hard. Something didn’t add up. He didn’t usually have a few too many beers? Right. A person didn’t get arrested without cause. “What happened to your friend?”
“He bailed on me.”
Classic.
She sat back. “Do you hang out with this friend a lot?”
Ryan shook his head. “No. We went to high school together. I ran into him at a football game, and he invited me to the party and I went. He hadn’t been drinking and agreed to drive me home.”
“In your truck?” Kellie had heard all kinds of lame excuses sitting in on assessments. This one was right up there.
He ran his hand through thick dark hair that had a nice wave to it. “Yeah. I know. Stupid.”
“So the police arrested you because...?” She wanted his perspective on why he’d gotten into trouble.
“It was cold that night, so I started the truck to turn on the heat. I was sitting in the passenger seat, but it didn’t matter. The cops said I had control of the vehicle with the intent to drive.”
“And did they talk to your friend?”
“No. They couldn’t find him. He left with someone else and that’s all it took to make me out as a liar.”
Was he? A twisting worm of doubt in her gut said he wasn’t. Maybe he’d been at the wrong place at the wrong time under the wrong circumstances. “This is how you remember it happening?”
He looked her straight in the eye. “That’s how it happened. I had no intention of driving. I don’t drink and drive.”
Kellie shifted under that direct gaze, but she didn’t look away. His eyes were dark brown and hard like bitter chocolate. That worm of doubt turned again. Liars weren’t usually so forthright.
She cocked her head. “Okay, tell me about yourself. Who are you, Ryan?”
The corner of his eye twitched. “What do you want to know?”
He did things the hard way. Okay, fine. “I have an entire sheet of questions here, which we’ll take in order. The more open you are, the easier this will be.”
“I don’t have a drinking problem,” he said.
He wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t something amiss in his life. “A problem is a broken shoelace, something you fix and it goes away. We treat the disease of alcoholism and addiction. That requires management skills.”
This time he shifted in his seat, looking wary. Nervous even. “Okay, what’s your first question?”
“Your general health appears good. Are you currently taking any prescription meds?”
“No.”
“Have you ever been prescribed medications for pain?”
“Yes.”
Kellie narrowed her gaze. “When and what were they?”
“I had my wisdom teeth pulled a month ago—they were impacted pretty bad. I still have the bottle of Percocet.”
“Did you take them?”
“I took one.”
“Why only one?”
Ryan shrugged. “I didn’t like how it made me feel.”
“And how did it make you feel?”
“Sort of loopy.” He sat forward with an annoyed look on his face and his dark brows furrowed. The thundercloud was back. “Look, Ms. Cavanaugh. I don’t do drugs. I never have. And I don’t normally drink much.”
How many times had she heard her brother deny his addiction? How many times had her parents believed him? They refused to see what his substance abuse did to their family.
What it did to her.
She cleared the painful memories inching into her brain. Ryan Marsh was convincing. He believed he was okay, and part of her wanted to believe that, too. He wasn’t like her brother. For one thing, Ryan looked a person in the eye.
“Except for that party?”
He