Page 10 of Hush

God, that thought. He just barely stopped himself from cringing.

Shrugging, he shoved his hands in his suit pants pockets. He had to salvage this, somehow. “If you need to grab a beer and vent, I’m always happy to listen.”

Mike nodded and stared at his phone, not even listening to Tom. He seemed to hesitate, his thumb hovering over the dark screen. He swiped it on, and then whistled. “Two hundred and seventy-two texts.”

“Wow.”

“I think that qualifies as bat-crap crazy.”

Tom barked out a quick laugh. “Well, in myofficialjudicial opinion, I’d say you’re correct.”

Mike scrolled through his phone, breezing past the messages, lines and lines and lines of text that Tom couldn’t make out. There were some pictures, but Mike angled the phone away, holding it closer to his chest, and frowned. “Well… it’sdefinitelyover.”

Tom didn’t know what to say. Anything that came to mind sounded trite. He tried to smile, hoping it came out sympathetic. He probably looked like he had gas.

Mike swiped to a new screen and pulled up a picture. He looked at Tom, as if weighing whether or not to show him. He took a deep breath. “Thiswasmy boyfriend,” he said, turning the phone to Tom.

Tom froze.

Only his years of being a lawyer kept him from falling to the floor, from stumbling and tripping over nothing, from looking like a gobsmacked clownfish gulping air and floundering. He kept his jaw closed through force of will alone. If he wasn’t so controlled, his chin would be scraping the carpet.

Mike liked men?

He blinked and forced his gaze to the picture on the phone. Mike and his now-ex.

The picture was sweet, Mike beaming with his cheek pressed against the face of a tanned man—younger, in his early twenties, if he had to guess—in sunglasses and a pastel polo with a popped collar. Mike had beard scruff and a backwards ball cap on. His ex-boyfriend had perfectly manicured eyebrows and a hint of lip gloss. The ex-boyfriend’s smile wasn’t as wide as Mike’s, and seemed, to Tom, to have an edge to it.

What the hell was he supposed to say? Mike had just come out to him. Granted, those kinds of things weren’t such a big deal anymore—for most people—and the revelation of a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend should be as nonchalant as talking about the weather or the Nationals game the night before.

But, a big part of him was still stuck in 1991, still reliving the moment when—

“Looks like a loser.” God, he hoped that was the right thing to say.

Mike laughed. Relief swept through Tom, enough to make his knees practically wilt.

“He’s an asshole, that’s for sure.” Mike flinched and apologized in the next breath. “Sorry, Your Honor. I didn’t mean to curse.”

“Please. He made it to ‘bat-crap crazy’. I think you’re allowed to call him an asshole.”

Mike ducked his head, smiling, and turned back to his phone. He scrolled through the photo reel, picture after picture of him and the ex, moments in time, kisses shared and hands being held. “No reason to keep any of this.” A swipe of his finger and the pictures vanished. Deleted.

“You deleted all your photos?”

“If I could, I’d delete him from my memories.”

Tom whistled. “That bad?”

“I came home and found him with another man in my house. I put all his stuff on the curb, and this morning, he went thermonuclear. I think he shot into orbit for a minute there. Threw his coffee at me, started screeching his head off. And then blew up my phone, telling me everything he ever thought about me. Oh, and sent pictures of him and his new boyfriend having sex.” Mike shrugged. “Yeah, I’m deleting all his photos.”

“I… don’t blame you. I’m…” God, what should he say? He was an idiot, fumbling for words. He was a lawyer, a judge, for Christ’s sake. Words were his tradecraft. Speech was his profession. “I’m sorry it ended that way.”

“Honestly? I’m glad it’s over. It was bad for a while, but I kept deluding myself. I’m good at that.”

And then, Mike sobered, going still as he tucked his phone into his pants pocket and schooled his expression back to the stern seriousness Tom always saw in court. “Thank you, Judge Brewer, for what you did today. This morning. And, with the phone. I really am sorry about being late. And for having this personal drama interfere with the court.”

“It’s fine, Mike. I understand. You don’t have to apologize. Some days are just really shitty.”

Mike nodded, and his smile crept back. “Thank you.”