The ticking of the clock on the courtroom wall was a cruel kind of torture. Every passing second echoed through my chest like a drumbeat, loud and hollow. I sat with my hands clasped in my lap, fingers tangled and unmoving, though they ached with the need to do something—anything—to distract myself.
Chris sat beside me, his leg bouncing with restless energy, jaw clenched so tightly I worried he'd crack a tooth. His hand found mine at some point, and though neither of us said a word, the grip was tight.
Lifeline tight.
Anne stood a few feet ahead, looking more composed than I knew she felt. Her expression was professional, unreadable, but I caught the subtle shift of her shoulders when the door behind us opened and the board returned.
The air turned heavier. We all stood.
"Please take your seats," one of the board members said. His tone was even, but not cold.
I swallowed hard and sat down again, my heart pounding.
