Page 40 of Broken Halo
Nothing happens and I wonder if he left. I tiptoe out of Griffin’s room and down the hall to the top of the stairs. I can see straight to the front door and he’s standing with his profile on display through the sidelight.
I look between my phone through my darkened house to the window. He’s still wearing his suit pants but he’s lost the tie and his sleeves are rolled at his forearms. He’s leaning against the stone, his head bowed, typing away like a madman.
I lean against the railing and slide to the floor on my ass to stare at him. There’s no way he’ll see me here in the dark even if he tried.
Trig: You’re just as stubborn as ever. I came to make a truce. We’re adults and I work for your family—we’re going to run into each other, even if you don’t make it a habit of having a run-in with the law every other day. And, if you do, then I guess we’ll see each other even more. But you refusing to speak to me when you need to be speaking to me is not smart. If nothing else, open the door so I can talk to you for Griffin’s sake.
I wrap my arms around my knees. He has no clue. I can’t talk to him, let alone be in the same room as him without it all rushing back. The good, the bad, the beautiful.
Why do beautiful things hurt the most?
Me: Fine. Text me what you need to tell me.
I look at him through the dark and he lifts his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes. I guess we’re going to pretend nothing happened between us in my office the other day? When he admitted it haunts him, too? He makes no sense.
Trig: Let me in.
Me: No.
I look up quickly to see him run his hand through his thick, dark hair. He lifts his phone to type and mine vibrates immediately.
Trig: Ellie, please.
I can’t. There’s no way I can be alone with him here even if it is to discuss my being falsely accused of possession of marijuana, no matter how small the amount.
Trig: I’m not leaving until you open the door and talk to me.
Trig: You’re scared.
The air in my lungs goes stale and if I weren’t sitting, I might collapse.
Trig: I know how you feel. If you remember, I was falsely accused once. And I was left on my own.
Tiny little daggers start to prickle my eyes and I’m forced to bite my lip.
Trig: Only I didn’t have anything left to lose.
Shit.
He just doesn’t stop.
Trig: Because I’d already lost everything.
I choke on a sob. Here in my quiet, monster of a house, it sounds guttural and ugly. I cover my mouth as my tears spill. I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t stop. I’ll have to turn my phone off and deal with the heartache in the light of day tomorrow.
Trig: Let me help you.
I shake my head and swipe my tears, typing anything, desperate to get him off my doorstep.
Me: I’ll call you tomorrow.
I look out the window and he’s not typing, but his thumbs are hovering.
Trig: I’ll meet you at your studio. Tell me what time.
No! I can’t do that again. Hesitating, I finally give a little just to get him to leave.
Me: I’ll get a sitter and come to MI.
