“Why did you stop acting? Was it because It’s My Life ended?”

“Partly, I guess.” He pushes off the jamb and takes a few steps toward me. “After the show, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do anymore.”

“You could’ve taken a new role, though?” I ask.

“Sure. There were options, but it meant committing to a pilot, and if that went well a season, and who knew what would happen after that. It could flop or it could’ve been something that went on for another five years, and I wasn’t convinced I wanted to be locked into that, so my dad suggested I take a year off. Emme had just been born and my parents wanted to travel, so we did some road tripping and I took the time to figure out what I wanted, which was when I decided to go to college.”

“But couldn’t you have gone to college and still acted?”

“Sure, but I didn’t want to spend my life on a set and do everything by independent study. I wanted to sit in a classroom with other kids my own age and learn about stuff I was interested in.”

“You wanted to be normal.”

“As normal as I could be, anyway.” He tips his chin down, noting the way I’m clutching the Dax doll protectively against my chest. “Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, nothing.” I reluctantly put the doll back on the shelf where I found it, instead of tucking it under my shirt like I want to. Unfortunately it keeps falling over, so I’m forced to adjust the arms and legs.

“You can have that if you want. You can have anything you want in here, actually. I’m pretty sure we have boxes of the same stuff in the basement. My mom didn’t like to throw out the memorabilia.”

“It’s okay. I probably already have it anyway.” I clamp my mouth shut, aware I’ve said too much.

Daxton’s grin widens. “Oh yeah?”

“Probably in a box in my closet with the rest of my high school stuff.” The Daxton doll—different from the one I was just hugging—is still in its box, because it’s a collector’s item. The DVDs sat on my shelf for the longest time. My mom and I used to watch the holiday movie every year when I was a teenager, and after she passed, I kept up the tradition, at least until the end of law school. Then they were all packed away with the memorabilia as well.

“I could sign whatever you have, if you find it, I mean.”

“Really?” I cringe at how excited I sound.

Dax’s smiles again. “I think it’s interesting that you have a thing for the teenage version of me but you’re not all that fond of the real, adult version.”

“Well, the adult version has been a bit of a jerk, but I’m starting to warm up a little now. Besides, that show brings back good memories. I used to watch it with my parents and my girlfriends. I associate it with a time in my life when things were simple.” I’m so defensive. “I should probably get going. It’s late.”

I try to slip past him to avoid further embarrassment, but he blocks the door. “Wait. I’m sorry. I’m not making fun. Well, I am, but only because I’ve missed riling you up like I used to in law school. I’ll stop. Just stay awhile longer and have a drink with me? Please.”

I should leave. His proximity does something to me. But then I remember that I’m trying to get him to come over to our firm and this is the perfect opportunity to have that kind of conversation. “One drink.”

I have to look away when he smiles this time, because it’s soft and warm, and almost all the ice around my heart seems to have melted tonight.

Dax grabs us both a beer from the fridge and we head outside. An in-ground pool takes up a good portion of the yard— the water glowing pale blue in the warm dark night. It’s private here, the gardens surrounding the pool lush and full of pretty flowers.

Dax settles beside me, legs spread wide, head tipped back as he stares up at the stars. I imagine tonight has been hard for him, with so many reminders of what he’s lost and how many challenges lie ahead. I have the urge to run my fingers through his wild hair, smooth it away from his forehead, soothe him with a gentle touch, which is not at all why I’m here.

I pull my knees up and turn to face him, propping an elbow on the backrest. “You okay?”

He sighs. “Yeah. Fine. Thank you for everything tonight. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You would’ve figured it out.” Tonight has changed my perspective. Watching him care for his sister like a parent would, toeing that line between brother and father, isn’t easy, and it’s clear he’s trying.

“Maybe, but I don’t think it would’ve gone nearly as well. I don’t know how single parents do it, especially single dads. It’s fucking exhausting.”

“Has it been hard balancing work and adjusting to all of this?” I motion to the house, not needing to explain more.

“The firm’s been really good about everything, but it’s a struggle to keep up. Emme has a lot of after-school activities and my mom was retired, so she had the time to take her to all of them. Emme took a little break from all of it, but she’s back at it now, so managing it has been tricky. She’ll be in high school next year, which is another adjustment, so for now . . .” He shakes his head on a heavy exhale.

“It’s a lot,” I finish for him.

“Too much sometimes,” he admits.

“Have you thought about changing firms? Maybe going somewhere that can be more flexible about your hours and the cases you take on?”

He tips his bottle back as he contemplates this. “Yeah. I have. But putting together a résumé, having to interview, making another change, the thought is enough to give me a panic attack. I’m just so overwhelmed already.”

“What if you didn’t have to do any of those things? What if the change was the only stressful part?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think it’s a secret that Beverly would like you over at Whitman and Flood.”

His gaze moves over me slowly. “She’s expressed interest before, but that was a long time ago. She offered me a position right after I graduated, actually. We could’ve ended up at the same firm.”

“She offered you a position at Whitman?” Beverly failed to mention this.

Daxton nods. “Yeah, I mean, I had a few offers, but there seemed to be more opportunities over at Freeman, and the money was a little better so I went there instead.”

“Right, of course.” There was only one opening at Whitman back then. I hadn’t received a call back for almost a week post-interview, and I’d nearly accepted a different position outside of the city until Beverly called. Whitman had been my first choice and obviously I hadn’t been theirs. It seems like I’m always coming in second where Daxton is concerned.

I force the next words out. “Well, you’d only be more of an asset to the firm now. It’s a thought, right? She’s progressive. Understanding.” I don’t want to push too hard. “It’s just something to think about, maybe when you’re more settled and things calm down for you.”

He rubs his lips with his fingertips, as if he’s considering it. “I just want this to get easier, and it doesn’t feel like it’s going to.”

I put a hand on his forearm. “The trauma is still fresh, Dax. It’s going to take a while for you to get your bearings.”

His head drops and he releases another long breath. His next words are barely a whisper. “What if I can’t do this? What if Linda’s right and I’m not cut out to raise a teenager?”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re doing a great job. Being a parent is never easy, especially when you’ve been thrown into it without any warning.”

He huffs a small, humorless laugh. “I had no idea what to do tonight. All of this is way outside of my wheelhouse. Emme needs women in her life she can rely on who aren’t her friends. And I can’t go to Linda because she’ll use it against me.”

“I’m here when Emme needs me.” I mean it, even though I worry about the weight it carries, and the deeper implications.

“I shouldn’t put that on you.” He threads his fingers through mine, curling his over the back of my hand. It’s unexpectedly intimate and strange how natural it feels. “But I want to.”

I’m already involved, Beverly has made sure of that, and beyond wanting to make partner, it’s clear Daxton needs the support, and frankly, so does Emme. I can relate to what they’re both going through, and it makes it both easier and more difficult to insert myself into their lives like this. I push aside the worry that I’m crossing lines I shouldn’t. “You’re not putting anything on me if I’m offering.”

“I did tonight.” He traces my thumb with his own. “I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

“I’m glad I was able to help.” And I mean it. How sweet he is with his sister, how caring, this is more in line with the person I got bowled over by in the quad that first day at law school. I just don’t know which version of him to trust.

“Me, too.” His smile softens. “I have a confession to make.”