Thirty-Eight | "Thank you."

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When Liza charged her phone and took a peek at it, she realized that the nap she'd taken after her call with Whitney had turned into another entire night of sleep.

So, on what was apparently Wednesday afternoon, after she had given herself a pep talk in the mirror and attempted to contain the frizzy mass that was her hair, she crept down the stairs with Milo at her side. Approaching the front door took nearly five minutes, going as slow as she was, but she did make it to her intended destination.

Elijah was gone by that point, she was certain. He would have to work eventually, and considering the length of time it had been since their awful argument . . .

Yeah, he was probably gone.

Liza was almost relieved at this possibility, regardless of how cowardly such a truth made her. She couldn't help but want to procrastinate on what was undoubtedly going to be a very painful, emotional discussion, though.

At least she would have several days. Maybe more, depending on how long his next flight was going to be.

It was with the comfort of his likely absence in the forefront of her mind that she swung upon her front door without much worry, pleased when—

"Oh, my God!" she shrieked, lunging backwards when Elijah's body fell towards her and landed unceremoniously on the floor.

The man in question blinked up at her blearily. "Hey, pretty girl," he rasped, bringing up his hands to rub at his eyes like a small child. "Good morning."

It took several long beats before her heart was calm enough for her to shake herself from her stupor and asked, "Have you really not left since yesterday?"

As though her question had suddenly reminded him of something important, he snapped upright and exclaimed. "Liza! Thank God! Are you alright? Doll, I'm so sorry," his dark brown eyes showed nothing but remorse. "I can't believe I did that. I'll never be able to apologize enough—"

She held up a hand to silence him, and he snapped his mouth shut immediately. "Can you come inside? Please?" She was growing uncomfortable with the door still open, leaving her vulnerable to the outside.

Elijah began nodding his head so frantically that she worried it might fall off his neck. "Yeah, yeah, of course, babe," he scrambled upright and trailed after her into the house. She noticed that he gave her plenty of space and didn't attempt to touch her, and she appreciated the action, though it didn't lessen her nerves all that much.

An awkward silence settled over them, during which Liza stayed near the island countertop in the kitchen with Milo at her side, ever the loyal companion. Elijah hovered on the opposite side of the foyer, his hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders slumped, and appearing more despondent than she'd ever seen.

"Hi," she said, bouncing on the balls of her feet anxiously. She was still wary of this version of Elijah. He looked like the Elijah she had grown so close with, but the memory of that Thwack sound reminded her that he had another side.

No, wait. She had to remember what Whitney had pointed out: Everyone expressed their emotions differently, and sometimes it wasn't healthy, but that didn't mean the person was a bad person.

Right. Okay.

"You scared me," she told him bluntly, unsure of how else to begin what was likely to be an intense conversation. "Yo-you scared me."

Elijah swallowed audibly, moving one of his hands up to cover his mouth. He didn't move fast enough, however, and she saw the way his lower lip trembled with emotion. When he seemed to gather himself, he moved his hand and croaked, "I know, sweetheart. I know I scared you, and I don't know if I can ever forgive myself for that. Just . . . just tell me what you need from me, pretty girl, okay? I'll do anything. Even," he sucked in a sharp, shaky breath, "even if you need me to leave you alone. I don't want to hurt your progress, Liza, and if me staying does that, then-then I'll leave, sweetheart, alright?"

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