Chapter 41
Ledgar
“You left,” she says.
“I know.”
“No note. No reason as to why. You were just gone.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that,” she snaps. “Stop sitting there saying I know, like you’ve already had this conversation in your head, and you’ve just been waiting for me to say something.”
“Are you going to let me explain?”
She laughs, humorously, and looks at the ceiling.
“I went over everything a million times for weeks. Replaying every conversation we had, trying to recall what I did.”
“You didn’t do anything.” Her thinking that kills me a little more inside.
“Then why?” She looks me straight in the eyes, tears on the brink of falling. “Why did you leave?” It doesn’t matter what I tell her. She’s not going to believe anything I have to say, so I opt for the truth.
“Because it was the only way to keep you safe.” Or so I thought, and that is the most honest thing I’ve said in months. “It was wrong, and I’m sorry.” She just stares at me for a long moment, a tear escaping before she can catch it. I know what I said doesn’t even come close to fixing this.
She swipes at her face angrily, like she’s mad at herself for showing how hurt and angry she still is at me after all these years.
“I need air,” she says, moving past me. Her shoulder catches mine as I stand and knocks me back down into the chair.
Ok, I deserve that. She pushes through the front door, gently closing it behind her.
That almost makes it worse. The soft click of it says she’s holding on by a thread, and she doesn’t care to give me the satisfaction of watching her snap. Duke whines at the door, pawing at it.
“I know, buddy. I know,” I say quietly. Grabbing two mugs from the cabinet, I make us both a cup of coffee and carry them outside.
She’s sitting on the porch steps, knees pulled up, staring out at the trees.
She doesn’t look at me when I come through the door.
Doesn’t even acknowledge the mug I set down beside her, but she eventually picks it up.
“Don’t,” she says, taking a sip.
“I didn’t say anything.” I lean against the side of the house, sipping my coffee and listening to the birds starting up somewhere past the trees. Duke prances up to her, plopping down next to her on the stairs.
“At least someone around here has manners,” she mutters. I let the corner of my mouth pull up just barely.
“I’ll answer your questions.” She turns and looks at me full on with fire blazing in her eyes.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You have a right to be angry at me,” I say. She huffs, mumbling something under her breath. “I want to take you somewhere,” I say.
She looks over at me. “Excuse me?”
“Somewhere I go to think.” She shakes her head and looks back to the yard. “After breakfast,” I say.
“Oh, you’re making breakfast too.” She takes a long sip of her coffee, and I have to release a breath to keep my thoughts straight.
“Keep it up,” I quip. “See what happens.” The smart remark she had locked and loaded doesn’t come.
“Fine,” she says after a moment.
She follows me inside without being asked and drops onto the barstool at the counter like she owns it.
With both hands wrapped around her mug, she watches me move around the kitchen while Duke places himself under her feet immediately.
“Traitor,” I whisper. I pull out some eggs and bacon from the fridge and grab the loaf of bread from the counter.
The kitchen fills with the smell of bacon as the skillet heats up and the bacon starts to pop a few minutes later.
Neither of us say anything as I cook us breakfast. Once it’s finished, I plate it up and set it in front of her, snagging a piece of bacon and taking a bite.
“You didn’t have to do that. Thank you,” she says her voice low.
When I get halfway through my plate, I set my fork down. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
She stops, looking up at me. She sets her fork down with a little more force than necessary and reaches for her mug. Like her holding onto that coffee cup will keep her from exploding on me. But I want her to. “Stop.”
“I need you to hear it.”
“And I need you to stop.” Her voice sharpens.
“I’m going to say this once.” I hold her stare and keep my voice level.
“You don’t have to believe me, or trust me, but I’m going to say it and you’re going to let me.
” I pause. “I’m sorry for leaving the way I did and not giving you a reason and making you think for even one second that it was your fault.
” I pick my fork back up and resume eating my eggs.
She stares at me while I finish eating, the weight of my words clinging to her.
“You don’t get to decide when I hear things,” she mutters.
“I just did,” I say evenly. “Now finish eating so we can go.” Her eyes narrow at me and she’s two seconds away from letting something fly but I hold her stare, daring her to. Instead, she picks her fork back up and finishes her food. A small victory for me.
“It was all he left me. A stupid envelope.” She lets out a short humorless breath. “With only a set of keys and a note with your address on it.” She looks up and her eyes are glassy with unshed tears.
“I didn’t know he was going to do that.”
“Great.” She picks up her mug and drains the last of her coffee before setting it back down. “That’s one thing cleared up,” she mutters.
I hold her gaze a moment longer than she’s comfortable with before getting up from the counter and gathering up both plates, carrying them to the sink. “Are you ready to go?”