Page 221 of Never Die for a Sinner
“Whenever you’re ready to come home, baby . . . I’ll be ready for you.”
And then he walks out the door.
And out of my life.
AVA
In the weeks following my release from the hospital, I spend the first two buried in my bed, hiding away from the world.
I’m exhausted. Whether from the hole in my shoulder or the one in my heart, I don’t know.
Mila and Bella stop by and try to coax me out of bed. They bring food and cheap wine, even though I can’t drink it because of the pain medicine, but it’s their presence that makes it worthwhile. No expectations. Just company in a world that feels empty since I left half my heart behind in the hospital the night I told Levi I needed time.
Even Paulina showed up and, bless her soul, helped me wash my hair. I was so grateful to her that I forced a hug on her, which she eventually softened to.
Bella and Mila begged me to come to Christmas, but it didn’t feel right, showing up there knowing I can’t look at Levi and not think about how much I ache for him. My body literally craves his. His warmth, his scent. Knowing that no matter what, there’s still a huge part of me that wants nothing more than to crawl into his arms and let him chase away the violence of life.
Instead, I spent the day binge-watching horror movies and eating junk food on my couch without a care in the world.
Christmas is easier to ignore when you’re all alone.
I haven’t heard from him in three weeks, nor have I seen him, and I’ll panic if I think about it for too long. Like maybe he’s decided I’m not worth it and that he’d much rather move on.
It’s not constant, but when those moments strike, it feels like a knife twisting deep inside. Half of me vanishes, a part of my soul carried away on some cruel wind, and I’m left groping blindly in the dark, grasping at nothing but shadows. I wish I could say each day gets easier, but the truth is, every night when I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, it’s not nightmares of what happened that haunt me. It’s him.
His scent, his laugh, his strength.
Part of me wonders what would happen if I showed up at his doorstep tomorrow. Could I forgive him for everything he did?
The other half is terrified—terrified of his rejection, of the cruel finality it would bring. I don’t know if I could survive that pain a second time.
And then, like all things when it comes to Levi Cross, I’m right back where I started.
It’s early in the morning on a Tuesday in January when I’m woken by the sound of someone banging around outside.
For a split second, a shot of panic slides through me, before I remind myself that Alex is dead. I’m safe.
Then, I force myself out of bed.
Pulling on a robe, I head towards the front door and peek out the window beside it.
My heart stops beating when I see the familiar black car parked out front next to my SUV, and the inky black hair that haunts my dreams just past that at the wood pile.
Swallowing over the lump in my throat, I tug my robe tighter around myself and step out onto the porch, wondering if I should have at least brushed my hair first.
But then he turns, and his eyes find mine, and suddenly, I forget about everything.
Those eyes . . . God, I’ve missed those eyes.
“W-what are you doing?” I ask, more confused than anything.
His answer is simple. “You need wood.”
“Y-you don’t have to do that.”
He’s right, I did need wood. I just wasn’t expecting him to come and chop it for me.
He shrugs. “It’s my job.”
