2011: It's been ten years since the sky literally came crashing down around Yael Malkah and upended her world. Now she's returned to New York to visit her ailing grandmother. With no other family, it's up to her to take care of the family business...
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Yael was exhausted when she returned to her apartment a little after one in the morning. After Casey left, she stayed at her grandmother's, sitting beside the bed until it was impossible to keep her eyes open any longer. Other than quick naps, she'd been holding vigil for over twenty-four hours. She craved a shower, food, a couple of hours sleep, and a moment of peace to sit down and make a list for her bakery—equipment and menus, maybe sketch some design ideas. Excitement erased her desire for anything else. Her own business. She could not wait to get started.
The elevator doors opened to her apartment, revealing Haustin slumped in a chair in the entryway. Asleep, he looked so peaceful and handsome; nothing remained of his sneer or the crazed expression he wore last time she saw him. Yael's guard went up, and she held her breath, afraid to discover which version of Haustin would wake. She cared for him, but it wasn't enough, not when he compromised her own sobriety. Residual anger from their earlier encounter hummed under her skin, a reminder of what she'd almost done.
He stirred, opening those captivating green eyes. At first, happiness lit his face, making him look years younger, only to vanish and be replaced by guilt. He stood quickly, putting distance between them, and she hardened herself against instant forgiveness. She had to be strong.
"Sorry. I, uh, fell asleep waiting for you. What time is it?"
"Quarter after one." Yael got a better glimpse of his face and noticed the bruising under his eye and along his jaw, the cut on his lip and temple. "Apparently, your destructiveness didn't stop with me."
He touched his face as if he had forgotten and grimaced. "Went looking for a fight. Found one with Abel. He kicked my sorry ass."
"Which you needed."
"I did." He rubbed his forehead. "Things got bad at work, and I couldn't deal. Took some pills and walked out. Drank a bottle of something, maybe two. Then I came to see you. We both know how that went." He frowned. "I never should have said those things to you, Yael."
"You hurt me," she whispered, her voice hitching.
"I know."
"No, you can't. You have no idea what your words did to me and what I left this apartment in search of."
The realization caused his expression to fall. "No."
She nodded, swallowing her shame and fumbling with her keys, looking anywhere but at him.
"Yael..."
"Thankfully, I stopped myself. I didn't find anyone dealing. I didn't get high," she said fiercely, storming past him into the kitchen.
"What can I say?" he pleaded, following her. "I am sorry, more than you realize."
"Don't say anything! Do. Actions matter. Deeds. My grandmother is dying, and you're throwing your life away like it means nothing. It's such a waste!"
