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My question is quiet, but I know Dad hears me. His shoulders slump, and he stares down into the chili, stirring counter-clockwise.
He’s still wearing his janitor’s jumpsuit from work, the sleeves tied around his hips beneath a faded blue t-shirt.
“I did hate him for a while,” he says at last, aiming his words at a lump of mushroom. “But the only way to move forward is to take responsibility—and I turned up drunk to work. I failed everyone at Ignis, Georgie,” he looks back and pierces me with those blue eyes, “just like I failed you.”
Oh, crap. My eyes blur, and the kitchen swims into a muddle. I can’t hear this stuff. It hurts too much. When Dad first got sober, he wrote me a long apology letter, and it’s still in my nightstand. Unopened.
I’ll get to it one day. I will.
But not today. Everything is still so raw, and it’s been easier to push all this anger and bitterness onto my dad’s cold-hearted boss. Onto a stranger; a man with so much wealth and power and success that someone like me could neverreallyhurt him.
But Levi’s not a stranger anymore.
And I could hurt him so badly. Maybe I already have.
I sway against the door frame, woozy with exhaustion. “Actually, I might go to bed early. Save me a plate for tomorrow?”
“Alright.” Dad doesn’t look happy about it, his ruddy face creased with worry, but he doesn’t push. He’s very big on boundaries these days. “Sleep well, Georgie.”
“Night, Dad.”
My heart aches all the way down the hall; as I brush my teeth; as I climb into bed with a groan. I keep waiting for the throbbing to subside, but it doesn’t.
Well. Of course it doesn’t.
Levi.
* * *
By 11pm, I’ve had enough. Tossing the covers back, I sit up with a groan.
Can’t sleep. Too much guilt. Too many tangled thoughts. I swipe the phone off my nightstand and call quickly, before common sense can butt in.
“Come on, come on.”
Levi answers after the fifth ring. He sounds fuzzy, like he’s in another country and not a twenty minute walk away. “Ignis Innovations. This is Levi Laurent.”
“Obviously,” I say flatly. “Who else would be in your office at 11pm on a Wednesday?”
“Georgina.” You can hear the smile in his voice. My eyes blur again, and I slam them closed before tears spill down my cheeks.
He’s such a good man. I’ve done him so dirty. “Everyone else calls me Georgie, you know.”
“Well, yes. That’s why I like to call you Georgina. There’s a whole extra syllable just for me.”
I laugh and rub at my aching chest. “Why are you still there?”
“Why aren’t you asleep?” he returns. “You said you were tired earlier.”
Fair point. “My head’s all buzzy.”
Levi hums. “I know that feeling. Sometimes I can tell hours before I go to bed that there’s no hope, and tonight the static will be too loud.”
Is that why he works so late? Trying to exhaust himself? Maybe it’s part of it.
An idea winks at me, and I sit up straighter, bed covers rustling. “How much longer do you think you’ll be at Ignis?”
Levi makes a noncommittal noise. “An hour, maybe. Why?”
