Page 22 of Sins of Leo

At her statement, he gaped. “Do not. I shower every day, sometimes more than once.”

“Do you really think that hides it? It’s like a marinade that oozes from your pores. It’s gross, and I won’t have it.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” He’d moved closer as they argued and leaned down, putting them almost nose to nose. Close enough to realize she had a faint smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

“I can and will tell you what to do because, unlike you, I recognize destructive behavior. You claim you drink because you can’t handle the grief and guilt of losing your family, but in truth, you’ve chosen to wallow in self-pity.”

“I don’t wallow.” A stiff reply.

She oinked.

He blinked. “What the fuck was that?”

“The noise a pig-headed man makes.” She oinked again and added, “Deny all you want, but it’s obvious you wallow in your misery because you’re too cowardly to live.”

“Wrong. I’ve been too cowardly to die.” He never could bring himself to end it.

“Guess I should add selfish to your list of traits.”

“How am I selfish?”

“Because it’s all about you. You resort to ill humor to discomfit others. You weaponize your grief to extract sympathy.”

“I’m not forcing anyone to endure anything. Not my fault they won’t leave me alone. I try to keep out of sight.”

“Because that’s kinder,” her sarcastic retort. “Do you really think it doesn’t hurt your friends and coworkers to see you suffering?”

He recoiled. “I didn’t ask for their sympathy.”

“Caring people can’t help themselves, and yet I’ll wager you’ve thrown it back in their face.”

“I’m sure they’ll get over it,” he snapped.

“The same way you got over your trauma?”

“It’s different.” Even as he said it, he heard how it sounded.

“Yes, you went through something horrible, but the way you’ve handled it hasn’t been healthy. You’ve chosen to make it your entire identity.”

“My baby girl was murdered!” Apparently, the doctor needed a reminder.

“And that is unbelievably tragic, but do you really think self-flagellation is the right way to deal with it?”

“What would you suggest?” Because while he hated hearing it, she had a point. He had been wallowing and refusing to find any joy in anything. He avoided his friends. Avoided anything that might help him move on because, if he did, then it would diminish what happened to his daughter and wife.

“You claim to be a warrior. Act like one. Your job is to stop evil so that no other father or mother suffers like you, so that no other child is taken before their time. That is how you deal with your grief by preventing it from happening again.”

Her words struck a chord in him. What if atonement didn’t come from being miserable but from helping others? It wouldn’t bring back his baby, Olivia, but staving off that loss for others would be a noble thing, a fitting tribute to his daughter gone too soon.

Rather than let her know her suggestion had merit, he went completely off-topic. “We should find out what room Tower has assigned you.”

“Changing the subject, I see.” She snorted. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

What did she expect from him? She’d just given him a harsh reality check. It would take time for it to process. Would it change his outlook? Maybe. But even if it didn’t right away, she’d planted the seed. Now, it was up to him whether it grew.

“How big is this place anyhow?” Ruth asked as she followed him out of the portal chamber.

“Big.” So big he’d never been to the top. Why would he, when everything he needed was held within the first dozen floors?

---