Page 83 of A Lethal Game of Trust
Her eyes roved over my face, waiting for me to explain. I didn’t, perfectly still.
Then she realised with a flinch as if my withdrawal caused her pain. Like the break of our friendship was a physical tear.
“You’re so incapable of emotion, you won’t even comfort me at my own father’s funeral?” she snapped, her pooled eyes narrowed in anger. A tear slipped through, a part of the grief, forced out by her anger towards me.
That’s what I would do. Force more tears.
That was all I was capable of.
All trust in her eyes evaporated, only followed by pure hatred. “I don’t know you at all.”
I shrugged and grabbed a beer from the table beside me. “I guess you don’t, no.”
Because if she did know who I was and what I had done, she would want me dead.
31
Because of Her
Dom
Despite the Monday deadline, Mia was sitting on my stairs waiting for me. It was something she often did. Once, she told me she used to sit on the stairs as a kid because the curly landline lead wouldn’t stretch any further. Now, she did it because it felt like a safe space.
It told me one thing. She wanted a battle and she’d gone for the higher ground.
Not bloody morally, though. That would have meant my house was empty when I arrived.
I ignored her, setting my keys down on the side and carrying Ghost’s cat basket into the living room. He meowed, happy to be home though he’d probably miss Leonie’s cuddles as much as me.
I’d fucked it. Ruined everything.
I put him down, opened his little door and then shut him in the room.
With a deep breath, I stood in the hallway by the stairs,trying not to remember that it was the wall I’d thrown Leonie up against and the way her clothes had littered my floor.
Mia looked down at her hands resting in her lap, her blonde hair falling forward and covering her face. She’d curled it. I’d complimented it a few months ago and she’d curled it every day since without fail.
“Whatever else you have to say, say it,” I said with a sigh.
“Will you not even let me say goodbye to him?” she asked, looking to the living room.
That I could do. If a goodbye would get her out, fine.
“I didn’t want him to hear,” I said grimly.
She nodded, again looking down at her hands. I hoped it was shame that had her looking away from me.
“Please,” she said, blinking up at me. “Please, Dom.”
“Please, what?”
“Forgive me. It was… I don’t know what it was.”
“I can explain it to you if you would like. It was pathetic.”
She shook her head. “Are you not upset at all?”
“Honestly? No,” I said. She didn’t have her shoes on. When was she going to put her shoes on?
