I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling extra tears leak out of the corners of my eyes as I bend ahead and prop my elbows on my knees, bowing my head so I can cowl my face with my palms. “I’m sorry, Dad,” I mumble, my phrases muffled by my palms.

I’m sorry for going away to Los Angeles. I’m sorry for not coming again house as usually as I ought to’ve. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you once you wanted me. I’m sorry you’re not right here anymore. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

The sob that escapes me bounces off the partitions and chokes me, urgent the heels of my palms to my watery eyes and letting my fingers bury into my hair, and I let it unfastened. I set free the tears I’ve been holding again for thus lengthy, the cries wracking my physique and filling the once-silent home with the sounds of my uninhibited sobs. I can really feel my physique trembling as I let the grief take over me in a method I haven’t allowed it to since dad’s passing.

It hurts, this ache in my chest. Unrelenting, unforgiving, stealing all of my breath.

I let it eat me. I cry and cry and cry till my reddened eyes start to really feel heavy, and I fall right into a pained slumber that serves as a bit reprieve from this heartbreak.

Chapter 15

BRUNO

When my knock on the bed room door goes unanswered, my eyebrows pull collectively, and, with out preamble, I open the door and look contained in the room. All the pieces is completely tidy; the mattress is made, the curtains had been parted within the morning to let the daylight in however now simply exhibit the darkened sky, the dressing desk has the whole lot neatly organized. It smells like coconuts, one thing inherently Diana. My frown deepens, enamel urgent collectively. No signal of her, although.

I pull out my cellphone, clicking on our messages. The tightness of my jaw intensifies as I as soon as once more absorb my unread messages:

The place are you?

It’s getting late, Diana. When will you be again?

Are you protected?

This isn’t humorous. The place are you?

All of my messages are left unread, and it solely intensifies the sudden iron grip of fear that adheres to me. It’s in contrast to Diana to not reply to my messages, and the longer they go unread, the extra I need to monitor her the hell down.

The place the hell is she?

I consider her father, and the likelihood that his demise wasn’t an accident—that possibly somebody had focused her too—and the concern that rumbles in my chest explodes to the purpose the place it threatens to make it troublesome to breathe. It’s a jarring sensation, however it kicks my ass into gear as I head down the steps, my footsteps thudding in opposition to the carpeted steps. The youngsters are in mattress already, our lengthy day collectively tiring them out, and as I open an app on my cellphone, I catch Raf’s consideration simply as he exits the lounge.

“All the pieces okay, Boss?” he asks, frowning.

“I don’t know,” I say, clicking by means of the app. Unbeknownst to Diana, I’ve a tracker on her cellphone and automotive, which I’d had my guys plant the second she had moved into my place. Whereas I’m conscious it’s an invasion of her privateness, I don’t give a fuck as a result of it turns out to be useful in moments like this.

My jaw tightens after I see that each her cellphone and automotive are in the identical spot, at an tackle I acknowledge. I search for at Raf, who’s eyeing me skeptically, although he appears able to spring into motion at my phrase. “I’ve to go examine one thing. You’ll stick with the youngsters.”

It’s not a request, however Raf nods nonetheless, and I seize my keys earlier than heading out. The drive doesn’t take lengthy, and I really feel only a fraction of reduction after I see the acquainted pink Volks Wagon parked within the driveway of the two-story house. There’s a single gentle on, which I discover by means of a window on the bottom ground. I get out of my automotive, taking within the quietness of the neighborhood. Paying attention to the entrance yard, I see that the grass has grown with out the upkeep it takes to maintenance the yard, and I ponder if Diana’s trying into it, or if she’s utterly deserted caring for the home. One thing tells me that’s unlikely, although.

Once I step as much as the entrance door, I give it a couple of agency knocks, ready for her to open the door. When a couple of seconds move with out a solution, my eyebrows pull collectively, and I step off to the facet to see by means of the window, making an attempt to see inside. By means of a parting between the curtains, I catch sight of Diana laying on the sofa. My muscle tissues tense, however she appears to be asleep.

Stepping as much as the entrance door once more, I casually throw a look on both facet of me, ensuring nobody’s watching, earlier than I take out the Swiss military knife in my pocket, the one my father had given to me after I was ten. Within the subsequent few seconds, I’ve bought the door unlocked, and I stroll into the darkish and quiet home, the one gentle coming from the lounge as I step inside.

My gaze immediately goes to Diana as she sleeps on the sofa on her facet, her physique rising and falling gently with the regular breaths she takes. My footsteps are quiet as I stroll additional into the room, approaching her silently so I don’t startle her awake. However the nearer I get, the clearer her face is, and I can simply make out the dried streaks of tears that run a course down her cheeks. Some strands of blonde hair follow her cheek, and my fingers itch with the urge to achieve out and brush them away, however I restrain myself.

Besides I can’t. As a result of as soon as I’m in entrance of her, I discover myself crouching to my knees, eye stage along with her sleeping face. She’d been crying—for the way lengthy earlier than she fell asleep, I don’t know. And the thought of her being this upset heats my blood, a primal urge to eliminate her ache rising inside me earlier than I can put a cap on it.

My hand reaches ahead of its personal accord, and my contact is featherlight as my fingers gently brush away her hair. My pores and skin brushes in opposition to hers, electrical energy sparking immediately on the very first contact of her mushy cheek, and my jaw tightens. Diana doesn’t stir in her sleep, and I permit myself the minutes to admire her in methods I’ve pressured myself to not.

She’s stunning—overwhelmingly so. Her cheeks all the time appear to be pink, even now as she sleeps, lips naturally pouty and barely parted as she breathes. Her eyelashes, darker in shade than her hair, are lengthy and almost brush in opposition to her cheekbones, and there’s a minuscule magnificence mark within the nook of her left eye.

The dried tear tracks inform me she fell asleep whereas crying, and it doesn’t take a genius to know, particularly when she’s curled up on the sofa of her childhood house, that she had been considering of her father. I would like solutions for myself and for her, particularly after I see the ache that weighs her down so fiercely. I perceive it. I’ve felt it myself earlier than.

When Diana abruptly begins stirring, I’m on my toes in a blink of a watch, taking silent steps again to place a ways between us, so she doesn’t get up to my face proper in entrance of her. I don’t need to frighten her or make her uncomfortable. So, I stand by the TV, a superb few toes away, as Diana’s eyebrows pull collectively as she shifts the place she’s laying.

Moments later, her eyes blearily blink open, and I see the look of confusion move over her face as she tries to make sense of the place she is. It doesn’t take her greater than ten seconds to understand, and I hear the deep breath that escapes her when she does. And it’s when she’s pushing herself up right into a sitting place that she lastly spots me.

“Oh, crap,” she gasps, startled, as she places a hand to her chest. Her eyes widen, all sense of sleep disappearing as she gapes at me. “Wha—what are you doing right here?”

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