Page 182 of Unsuitable

He’s ignoring me. He doesn’t want to speak to me or see me.

So, if I went to see him…forced a confrontation…I’m scared of what he’d say.

On a sigh, I push my key in the door of my apartment and unlock it.

I gingerly push the door open.

We officially have our apartment back. This is my first time being back here since the shooting.

Cece couldn’t face coming back. Honestly, I didn’t want to either.

But we’ve both run out of clean clothes, and we’re in this mess because of me, so coming here was the least I could do for her.

I step inside the hallway, and I’m instantly catapulted back to that day—when I walked in here, happy with a bottle of champagne in my hand.

Back when I wasn’t someone who’d taken another person’s life. Even if the bastard did deserve it.

I walk slowly down the hallway. My eyes catch on the living room door.

It’s closed.

I stand and stare at it.

“Daisy.”

I spin around at the sound of Kas’s soft voice.

He’s standing in the open doorway.

He looks tired. Darkness circles his eyes. His clothes look wrinkled.

And he’s still the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.

I part my dry lips. “I called…”

“I know.” He looks away at the wall. “I’m sorry…” He lifts and then drops his shoulder, seemingly at a loss for words.

His eyes come back to mine. There’s an almost pleading look to them.

“I-I heard that you’d gotten out on bail.”

“Yeah.” He pushes his hand through his hair. “My lawyer says I’m looking at self-defense.”

“So, you’re getting off?” I hold my breath.

“Looks that way.”

“Oh, thank God.” I press my hand to my chest, a breath rushing out of me. I feel like an enormous weight has been lifted. “I-I don’t know how to thank you for what you did.”

He holds my eyes, shaking his head, silently telling me to stop.

I bite my lip.

“Is everything going to be all right with Jesse?” he asks. “Are you still allowed to see him?”

“Yes.” I nod, a smile touching my lips. “Before…I didn’t get to tell you, but right before what happened”—my eyes drift back to the living room door—“Anne had called, said they were giving me weekend visitation rights.”

“Were?”