Eleanor glanced back at me.
My heart was still racing, but it wasn't fear. It was something far more dangerous.
Hope.
26
RAPHAEL
Idid not expect the door to open wider. I certainly did not expect to be invited inside. When Eleanor stepped back and gestured toward the entryway, I hesitated for half a second.
“I will not cause disruption,” I said evenly.
“That remains to be seen,” the woman beside her replied sharply.
Mel. I recognized her from the rink. She was assessing me protectively, and I respected that. But she had nothing to be worried about. I was here to beg for forgiveness, and I would leave if she was unwilling or unready.
I stepped inside.
The house smelled like coffee and something sweet, cinnamon perhaps. It felt lived in. The warmth was the opposite of the silent, sterile state I left mine in this morning.
Eleanor closed the door behind me.
Belle was standing near the kitchen table. She looked tired, both physically and emotionally. Her eyes finally met mine. I breathed a sigh of relief when there was no fear in them.
Eleanor crossed her arms over her chest. Mel mirrored the posture immediately. The symmetry was not accidental.
I inclined my head slightly.
“I understand, you are protecting your friend, I assure you I want nothing but to make this better,” I said.
Neither of them responded. Belle didn’t even move. I deserved this.
The silence stretched long enough that I considered whether this was going to work . . . but it had to work.
“I am sorry,” I said.
The words felt unfamiliar in my mouth.
“I am sorry for how I reacted last night.”
The room stilled. I have not said those words in years. Perhaps ever. I do not apologize easily.
I was not incapable of apologizing. I preferred to prevent errors rather than admit to them. But this was an error.
Belle’s expression shifted slightly. She wasn’t convinced yet, but she was listening. That was a start.
“I should not have raised my voice,” I continued evenly. “You did not deserve that.”
Mel’s jaw tightened, but she did not interrupt. Eleanor studied me with careful neutrality.
“I reacted to memory,” I said, choosing each word deliberately. “Not to you.”
Belle’s throat moved as she swallowed.
“That does not excuse it,” I added. “It explains it.”
Silence fell again. I let it stand.
