Page 35 of Redeem

“Dana—”

“Don’t touch my things.”

I spat the words out on a hiss and then turned and left the shed, still without looking at him. My chest was tight, and I could feel the tears welling behind my eyes.

They wouldn’t fall. I wouldn’t let them.

I didn’t really know what I was doing, but I made it back to the shutters and continued staining, waiting for the soothing calm that always came when I worked on the house.

It didn’t come.

Instead, my mind still raced as I thought back to him holding that frame. Then thought back to the girl in the picture, the one who’d had hope for a future that never had a chance to be. Thought of the woman she’d become, the one who had stupidly let hope back in.

The source of that hope chose that exact moment to reappear.

I looked up as I heard Ciprian approach, again felt that stubborn, irrepressible pull of desire when I glimpsed his broad shoulders and the T-shirt that pulled tight across his chest. I ignored that, though, and instead watched as he plugged the small saw in and then approached.

Instinct told me to look away, but I didn’t. I just waited for him to say something, or at the very least be angry with me for snapping at him. When I finally met his eyes, all I saw was that calmness, that awareness that was quickly becoming a balm for my soul.

“How many pieces?” he asked, nodding toward one of the larger sheets of wood.

The sound of his voice loosened some of the tightness in my chest, those few words soothing me.

“Four,” I whispered, trying to ignore how happy the little smile that covered his lips made me.

Dana

“Dinner is served,” I said later that night as I placed the pan of piping-hot beef stroganoff on the table in front of Ciprian.

“Looks delicious,” he said.

“Thanks,” I replied.

I served him a helping and then filled my own plate and then sat. We ate in silence, which wasn’t uncommon. But tonight felt different.

I kept thinking about earlier in the day, how angry I’d been, how I’d lashed out at him. And I felt guilty. I didn’t like people touching my things, and I didn’t like thinking about the past, but Ciprian had earned the benefit of the doubt.

And I’d been too self-centered and self-pitying to give it to him.

I dropped my fork, uncaring of the loud clang of it against the plate. Ciprian didn’t even flinch at the sound, and instead looked at me as he slowly chewed, his expression giving away nothing.

Fuck. He wasn’t going to make this easy. But then, I wasn’t sure if I had earned easy.

“Ciprian, I…”

I trailed off, pursed my lips as I considered what to say. It had been a long time since I’d apologized, and I wasn’t quite sure how to do so anymore. A simple “I’m sorry” didn’t seem enough, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. It would have to do.

“I—”

“It’s okay, Dana,” he said.

I shook my head, determined to continue. “No. I—”

The soft shake of his head cut me off. “It’s okay.”

He spoke with a finality that I couldn’t quite protest and before I could speak, he had resumed eating.

Guess that was it for my apology.