Page 102 of Injustice and Absolution

And if by the grace of God she still wants me when all is said and done... Fuck, even if she doesn’t want me—she can hate me all she wants, but she’ll do it under my goddamn roof, where she belongs—I’ll spend the rest of my days making sure she feels loved and safe...

Cared for and secure...

Wanted and desired...

More than she ever has before.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

DELILAH

Last night was one of the hardest of my life.

When I finally pulled myself together enough to leave Drew’s office, Ethan was waiting to drive me home.

I didn’t ask if he knew about our fight.

I didn’t ask if he knew why he was driving me home.

I didn’t say anything, and thankfully, Ethan didn’t try to strike up a conversation either.

When I got home, I sat on the sofa and didn’t move one inch as the uncomfortable quiet of the townhouse rang loudly in my ears. Drew wasn’t due to close, so I expected him home around midnight.

Waiting for him was like riding a slingshot into my past. I felt desperate and hopeless, full of fear of the unknown every second, just like I did waiting for my father to return in the days following his disappearance.

Drew didn’t step foot in the house until four o’clock in the morning—later than we usually get home when we close together.

I met him at the door with eyes full of sorrow and hope burning in my chest that we could reconcile what happened.

He refused to talk to me.

He wouldn’t even look at me.

He went straight upstairs to shower while I stood outside the bathroom door, waiting for him to finish. When he was done, I patiently awaited his acknowledgement.

I needed some type of communication from him.

Words. Whether loud or soft.

Touch. Whether painful or delicate.

But again, he pushed past me before locking himself in the guest room.

The weight of his silence—of his disregard—crushed me until I couldn't breathe. Until I thought I was dying. It brought me to my knees, and there I stayed.

On the cold, hard floor.

For the rest of the night.

I drifted in and out of sleep, quietly murmuring promises to the universe that I’d make up for the wrong choices I’ve made recently, if only for Drew to utter even one word to me when he woke up.

Which he did, at eleven o’clock this morning when he hauled the door open and just missed stepping on me as he exited the guest room.

“Hurry up, we’re late.”

It’s not the resolution I was looking for, but I wasn’t particular with my request from the universe, so I chose to view it as a gift.

Since arriving at work, I’ve been trying to go the extra mile by helping to restock the bar, ensuring all tables are thoroughly wiped, and helping Maia and Ginger bus their tables when needed.

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