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Jenna had blamed me at first, certain that I’d forced Mel to sign that paper. But the truth had come out when Jenna had packed up her stuff at the tender age of twelve and gotten a ride to her mother’s apartment in the city. Mel had been less than thrilled to see our daughter on her doorstep and when Jenna had told her she’d stand up in court and tell anyone and everyone that she wanted to live with her mother instead of me, Mel had been horrified and hadn’t held her punches when she’d told our child to go home where she belonged. I hadn’t gotten the complete story from Jenna when she’d called me in tears to come and get her from a park near Mel’s apartment, but I’d gotten the gist of it. I’d promised her that she and I would always be a family, but it hadn’t been enough. Maybe if Mel hadn’t ever been in her life, Jenna wouldn’t have missed something she’d never had. But Mel’s indifference had left the same mark on Jenna that my mother’s defection had left on me. And nothing I’d said or done had been able to change that. Within a couple of months, Jenna had started acting out in school and her grades had started to slip. By her thirteenth birthday, she’d been well on her way to becoming a full-blown addict.

And I hadn’t been able to stop any of it.

I forced the bad memories aside and focused on rinsing out my coffee cup. My plan for the day was simple and singular - do whatever it took to keep from thinking about Dante.

I still had quite a bit of packing to do of my personal possessions that I was taking with me. I also needed to make arrangements to have Ace transported to the stable outside of Seattle I’d found. Trent’s trial would likely be ending later today or tomorrow and I was planning on attending the reading of the verdict. The prosecutor had left a message saying it would be helpful if I came for his closing argument, too. Unlike me, he was confident that my professional reputation had withstood the hit my personal one had taken. And he was going to remind the jury of that during his closing.

“Why?”

The sound of Dante’s voice startled me and I swung around to see him standing near the entrance to the kitchen, his clothes soaking wet and his hair hanging in a wet mess on his face.

“Why did you say all that out there?” he asked, his voice uneven as he motioned over his shoulder to the open front door.

He looked so broken, that I couldn’t even enjoy the flare of hope that sparked to life inside of me that he was still here.

Before I could even answer, he used his hands to push his sopping hair back off his face. “What do you want from me, Magnus?” he whispered in an agonized voice.

I didn’t dare move because I feared he’d run.

“You,” I said truthfully. “I just want you, Dante.”

He looked pained as he closed his eyes and I saw his face fall. I wasn’t sure why, but it clearly wasn’t the answer he’d wanted to hear. But it was the only one I had. I wasn’t going to freak him out with relationship talk, but I knew deep in my heart that was what I wanted. I wanted a chance to explore the feelings he stirred in me. I wanted a chance to know the real him…the him he’d given me glimpses of.

I knew this was a make or break moment for us, so I wasn’t going to sugarcoat anything for him in the hopes he’d stay.

“But I want the real you,” I continued. “Not the version of you who you want everyone else to see.” I risked stepping a little closer to him as I spoke, though there were still half a dozen feet between us when I stopped.

“You wouldn’t want the real me,” he said dully, the emotion fading out of his voice.

“Try me,” I suggested as I took a few more steps toward him.

“The cab driver is waiting for me.”

“He can wait a little longer,” I suggested. I desperately wanted to touch him, but I didn’t. He was caught somewhere between hope and resignation and I was going to do anything in my power to make sure he came out on the side of hope when this thing was over.

“It’s my fault,” he began, his voice thick. “It’s my fault Aleks is gone.”

I remained quiet and didn’t dare even move for fear he’d retreat back into himself. I didn’t believe what he was saying for a second, though I had no doubt he believed it.

“He and I had gone to the mall. He’d gotten some money for his eighth birthday a few days earlier and he’d wanted to go to the toy store. I’d agreed to take him, but I’d wanted to stop at the arcade first. There…”

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