Page 73 of Injustice and Absolution

Why would I think that?

I want to scream at her. I just found her half-dressed, working in a strip club. Something that goes against everything I thought she believed in, the kind of person she was... And she wants to know why I think she’s in trouble?

I swallow the asshole response flirting with the tip of my tongue. I need to try to coax the truth from her. She responds better that way. Like when she was fifteen and I wanted to know who gave her the black eye.

A conversation that changed both of our lives forever.

Before tonight, I couldn’t understand how suddenly I’d developed a craving for her once she turned eighteen. But looking back and remembering our first real conversation—and everything that happened after it—I can see how concern led to action. Action fed into responsibility. Responsibility triggered care. Care boasted pride. And pride provoked … lust? And lust transformed into love?

Fuck, maybe I still don’t understand it. Maybe I never will. But I do know one thing for certain.

That day at the dining room table, the raw details she shared with me...

That was the catalyst.

It lit the match that started the blaze that wafted the flames, that raged the inferno that finally burned my world to the ground the moment I realized I loved her.

And I’m determined to make sure she knows exactly how I feel.

“Maggie found out what happened at the store... I was concerned and felt the need to make sure you’re all right. I thought you might be in some kind of trouble.”

She lowers her head, shrinking further against the wall. When she looks at me again, I can see she’s hurting, and I desperately need her to tell me why.

Does she suspect Drew had something to do with it?

Is that why she’s here?

She’s scared of him?

“You could have called or texted. You didn’t have to come all the way out here.”

“No,” I argue. “I had to see you with my own eyes. I needed visual confirmation of your well-being.”

The corners of her eyes crease with wonder as she takes in my emotion-laced confession, and ittightens my chest. It’s like she doesn’t believe me, but who can blame her after the way we left things? The wayIleft things.

“What happened?” I ask in an effort to show her how much I care.

“I...” she starts, her eyes unfocused, distant. As though she’s walking through her memory of the attack. “It happened so fast. I don’t really even remember everything.”

I wonder if she’s telling me the truth, but I know when she’s lying. Just like I always have.

“Did they … touch you?”

When she swallows and looks away, fury races through me, and I swear, I could punch a hole right through the bricks holding me up.

“Drew showed up and stopped them before they got very far.”

That’s awfully suspicious, him showing up just in the nick of time.

“The whole time all I wanted was to call … someone … for help.”

I see red, knowing what she was going through. Being scared and wishing she could reach out to me to save her. Trying my damnedest to temper my rage so I don’t lose it in front of her, I refocus my attention on the silky chocolate of her eyes.

Placing my hand under her chin, I raise her face to mine and bask in the stare I didn’t realize exactly how much I missed until this moment.

“Come home, kitten...”

She meets my gaze with quick, shaky breaths and longing in her stare. Cupping both of her cheeks in my palms and with all of the emotion my arid soul can muster, I try to show her how sorry I am. How much remorse I bear for the way I treated her.

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