Page 226 of Never Die for a Sinner
As February rolls around, so does the cold. The wind cuts through me every time I leave the house, and I can’t wait to return and stay in front of the fireplace.
The cottage has come a long way, and it’s starting to feel like home again. With each passing day, the dust and cobwebs disappear, and a bit more of the character I grew up with shines through.
I can’t deny Levi has been a big part of it, and I know without his help, I would have played hell trying to keep the place warm.
He still comes every day, but there’s something new in the air between us. Something warm and new and vibrant that steals my breath away when I catch myself staring at him.
There are moments when we accidentally brush hands or bump into each other, and he steadies me with a hand on my waist that I feel like I might combust if I don’t get his hands on me.
There are other moments when I still want to blame him for what happened, even knowing the true reason behind his actions.
I’m finding it difficult to trust at times, and at others I want to throw caution to the wind and leap into his arms.
I’m a walking contradiction, and it’s giving me a headache.
It’s not until the coldest day of the year that he doesn’t show.
My heart sinks every time I glance at the clock.
It’s stupid, the ache in my chest when it dawns on me that he’s not coming. I can’t expect him to spend every day hanging around my house waiting for me to forgive him. He has a life, and so do I. It’s better this way.
At least . . . that’s what I tell myself until I hear his car coming down my drive.
Instantly, I dart off the couch and head to the window, peeking out through the curtains to see him climb out of the car.
My heart flutters in my chest, knowing he came, but I’m also angry that he chanced it with the big snowstorm coming through.
“Get inside, it’s freezing,” I call out when he comes up the slick sidewalk.
“Miss me, baby girl?”
My heart does a somersault at the familiar old nickname, and I open my mouth to tell him not to call me that, but the devil-may-care grin on his lips has the words dying before they ever reach the surface.
“Just get inside, you psychopath.”
He follows me in, kicking the snow off his boots in the doorway, while I shut the door behind him.
“Why would you come out here in this? It’s crazy outside. You could have wrecked.”
Amusement lights his gaze, and he holds out a small box. I stare at him blankly before he takes my hand and places it in my palm.
“What is this?”
He shrugs, moving past me towards the living room.
“It’s Valentine’s Day.”
I pause, falling short. I look down at the box in my hand, and my heart beats a little faster. How did I not realize? How did he?
He heads over to the fireplace, messing with it like he does every day. I swear I’m not doing something right because it’s never as warm as when he does it. I’m starting to think he’s rigged it, so I need him to come over and fix it every day.
Carefully, I slide open the box, and my voice gets caught in my throat.
It’s Gran’s old Tiffany necklace we found the other day, broken in a drawer in the bathroom. Only now . . . it’s fixed.
My fingers graze over the metal chain, my eyes filling with tears. I hadn’t even realized he’d taken it, and now, it’s fixed and shining like it’s brand new.
I thought I’d done a good job at hiding how much it upset me to find it broken, but I should have known he’d see right through that.
