Rescuing Liberty: Perseverance Book 1 by Amanda Washington

that?” I watched as he walked
back toward the bed.
    “ Oh just something Ash got Jake. I
thought she might want it.”
    I sat there, dumbfounded. I looked
down at the sleeping child. She slept on her side, facing the
center of the bed, looking young and frail. “What are you going to
do?”
    “ Do?” He shrugged. “I’ll take care of
her like I promised.”
    “ No. I mean are you going to tell
her?”
    He glanced at Ashley.
“Maybe eventually. I don’t know. If you had a dad like Jacob,
wouldn’t you be disappointed to find out that I was actually your father? She’s
been through so much. I don’t want to be responsible for any more
hard knocks. She’s just a kid.”
    I nodded. “I understand.” My hand
reached for his in an attempt to comfort him. His skin was still
damp and he smelled oh so good.
    He looked at my hand, then his eyes
traveled up my arm and lingered a little too long on my
chest.
    I removed my hand and crossed my
arms.
    He smiled. “You helped us, you know.
She hated me so much, but you forced us to talk. She wouldn’t even
hear me out until you came along. Thanks.”
    I returned his smile; surprised by his
gratitude. “You can thank me by being honest with her. She deserves
to know.”
    “ Bu—”
    “ No. You’re wrong.
She’s stronger than you think. And who says you get to decide which
truths people hear? I realize that your experience with the truth
is lacking, since it can be quite elusive in courtrooms. But truth
is not a thing to be twisted or manipulated at your will and for
your benefit. It’s the truth, and your
daughter has a right to it.”
    Connor leaned back like I’d slapped
him. Then his intense, dark eyes locked on mine. “You’re not like
anyone I’ve ever met.”
    “ Considering that you frequent court
rooms and date plastic women, I’ll take that as a
compliment.”
    He smiled. “Touché.”
     

CHAPTER ELEVEN
     
    I STARED INTO the empty ice cream container,
willing it to refill itself. I didn’t remember eating the whole
half-gallon last night, but the details preceding my sugar-induced
coma were still a bit sketchy. Eying my furry roommate—the only
other possible suspect, I asked, “Did you eat my ice cream,
Kiana?”
    My dog rolled over and waited for me to
scratch her belly, in a surefire admission of guilt.
    “ Uh-huh.” I scratched her
belly with the toe of my slipper. “Someone’s getting
chunky.”
    My own bulging belly caught my eye. I’d been
out of work for months, and last night’s ice cream overindulgence
was only the latest of my depression related binges. If I didn’t
find a job soon, I’d need a forklift to get me off the sofa.
    “ That’s it, fatty. Tomorrow
we’re going on a diet.” The name “fatty” was universal, referring
to my dog as accurately as myself. Kiana closed her eyes and
ignored the insult.
    Wrapped in my fuzzy, blue bathrobe and
slippers, with my curls sticking out in every direction and serious
dragon breath, I struggled to understand why no man had scooped me
up yet. As I glanced in the mirror hanging above my couch, I
noticed that my excessive junk food consumption was also causing a
massive pimple invasion.
    Depression is not my color. I sunk into my favorite spot on the couch, ripped
open the ice cream container and started licking it clean. “Ugh.
What am I doing?”
    Kiana raised her head and stared at me.
    “ Okay, that’s it. We start
the diet today.”
    I could have sworn Kiana rolled her eyes
before she went back to playing dead.
    The container was tossed into the garbage in
an effort to derail the temptation train. I slid back onto the
couch and waited for the coffee pot to finish brewing. A tap of the
remote control snapped my thirty-six inch television to life.
    “ Sexual harassment,
automobile accidents, wrongful death cases, if you’ve been wronged,
we can help.” I groaned at the image of Connor Dunstan promoting
his law firm. “That guy is slimy with a capital S,” I told