I was not paying nearly as much attention to my surroundings as I should have.
“It will be enough.”
Days or weeks ago, I’d have grabbed for a knife or run at the ferocity of Garrison’s stare. More so when he pushes himself to his feet and bridges the inches between us.
I don’t run, and I make no move to defend myself.
Garrison Brewster won’t hurt me.
I hold Garrison’s gaze as he slides a palm around the nape of my neck and presses a soft kiss on my forehead. “I think it’s time they paid for their crimes. Don’t you?”
I do.
Chapter 55
Resa
It’s the last day of Sloane Eddiswood’s trial and I’m dressed in a black sleeveless dress, ballet pumps, with my hair braided down my back.
There’s no sign of Garrison, Vaughn, or Blaine, but their voices drift from the meeting room, so they must be going through what will happen this morning.
Blaine, Garrison, and Vaughn have been in the meeting room day and night, prepping for me to speak at the trial.
Garrison hasn’t told me what he intends to do with the list of names I gave him, and no one has spoken about what will happen after the trial. But I miss my parents and I miss my life, and I want to go home.
I’m ready for this to be over.
Frost is in the kitchen, back to the counter, sipping from a mug of black coffee so strong it makes my eyes water as I take a seat at the kitchen island. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He studies me over the rim of his mug. He’s all in black, too. “You ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I say.
“How about breakfast?” he offers.
“Will I be eating it or wearing it?” I quip.
He snorts a laugh. “You’re never going to let me forget it, huh?”
“Nope.” I consider if my stomach can handle food. I’m not as nervous as I was before, but the thought of eating does not appeal. “Maybe some apple juice?”
He places his mug on the counter and turns to grab a glass from a cupboard and my fancy apple juice from the refrigerator.
I watch him fill my glass.
“Don’t be like me,” Frost says in a voice just above a whisper, confusing the hell out of me.
“I don’t understand.”
He hands me the glass but doesn’t immediately release it. “I waited too long to say something important, and I missed my chance.”
I tilt my head, trying to read him. “What did you wait too long to say? And why does it have anything to do with me?”
“How I felt.” Footsteps head this way and Frost releases the glass and picks up his coffee. “And it has something to do with you because I don’t want you to wake up regretting a choice you didn’t take.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
He looks me right in the eye. “Yes, you do.”