Chapter 13

Bits of plaster dotted the floor and the smell of rotting wood was in the air. And she knew the holes she'd created in the wall didn’t help the general impression either.

But once he took it all in, he seemed to table it. He turned piercing eyes on her. "What's wrong?"

She was cross-legged on the worn carpet, trying to keep it all together. But it wasn’t working. Suddenly, her face was in her hands, her shoulders were quaking.

He was beside her in a flash. Squatting in front of her, his large legs enclosed her. That crooning voice.

Damn him.

The wind blew up, hurtled frosty bits of snow against the thin-paned window, the tiny rat-tat-tat unwavering in its intensity, if anything, growing louder. More violent.

She couldn't stand it. Any of it. Looked up and faced him. "What the hell do you care? You're out of my life. You left!"

The showdown had begun.

She let the tears flow, one big spill of them, wiped at them. Now her stupid mitts were soaked. Damn it.

His face turned ashen. He blinked but didn't speak.

"What. You're not going to say anything?"

And still he stayed wordless. That look, that non-participation in life...what the hell?

There was a battle going on, on his face, but he still didn't say anything.

She pulled away, crab-walked out from the protective vee of his legs. "It's fine. You don't have to explain."

"Tish, I can't. I can't tell you why, but I never stopped caring."

Incredible. She stared at him. "You care? You left."

And then a familiar sound. His phone, signaling a text.

She watched, incredulously, as he stopped. The argument, the showdown of the century—and he was answering his phone?