Page 48 of Redeem

That was worst of all.

I could deal with the emotion, hate even, but Dana was shutting me out, and I hated that. Realized that I would need to get used to it.

Her dark eyes glittered, and I sighed, knowing I could no longer delay. That there was no reason to. “I don’t… I’m not sure where I should start,” I said.

She scowled, then stomped past me. She went out of her way not to touch me, and I kept myself from reaching out for her. Instead I watched as she sat in the wicker rocking chair that she’d put in one corner. She pulled her legs up and then wrapped her body in a flannel blanket.

There was a chill in the room, but I knew she didn’t cling to that blanket because of the temperature. She wanted more separation from me, more distance, and in that moment I felt more forlorn than I had in my entire life.

It really was over.

I wanted to resist that feeling, would have done anything for it not to be true, but when I looked at Dana, saw that emptiness, that total lack of emotion, I knew that I was only forestalling the inevitable.

I couldn’t win her back.

So I would do the only thing I could.

I would tell her my story. Ask for her forgiveness.

Then I would leave.

Twenty-One

Dana

I had no idea what I was doing, but I knew I was being stupid, as stupid as I had ever been.

I’d sworn I’d never do this again, that I’d never put myself in the position where someone could hurt me.

But that was exactly what I’d done.

And it wasn’t simply a matter of falling for a guy, having a fling that went cold. That would have been far too easy, something I might have a shot at coming back from. But that wasn’t my style.

I’d married one man who had let ambition lead him to death.

And then I’d fallen in love with his killer.

Even thinking the thought sent a sharp stab through my chest, and I wrapped the blanket around me tighter, for once not caring that I was relying on a crutch.

Common sense, reason, a belief in justice would have sent me running from this room screaming, made me lash out at him, do anything but sit in this chair with a fucking blanket wrapped around my shoulders.

I stayed.

As illogical as it was, as insane, I had to listen.

“Let’s get this over with,” I said, my voice weary, but not as weary as I felt.

I’d had my fill of revelations, had had enough to last me my entire life, but they weren’t over yet. There was nothing he could say that would make me understand, but still, I needed to listen. I ignored the little voice that whispered the reason why hearing him was something I needed so much.

Tried to squash the little seed of hope that told me there might be a way to make sense of this, that there might be a way forward for us.

I knew where that path would head. He’d tell me his story, and I’d be able to forget the past and hold tight to the feelings that he inspired, hold tight to him, the love that I felt for him.

Sickening. But that was what I wanted.

Something I knew I couldn’t have.

I looked at him, again struck by how vivid and strong the feelings I felt for him were. How the disappointment, sadness struck with equal strength. He had worked past my defenses almost effortlessly, and I was yet again reminded of what happened when I was foolish enough to let myself feel.

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