Her Love Came Too Late novel · Chapter 11 of 24

Chapter 11: What the Desk Never Asked

Hannah lived on the second floor of a brick house in Lawrenceville, above a bakery that was closed for the night.

She unlocked the door with a hand that was not quite steady.

"It's small," she said. "Don't look at the sink."

Elliott looked at the sink.

It held exactly one mug and one spoon.

"I like it," he said.

"Sit down. I'll do your eye."

"My eye's fine."

"You've said that forty-one times in my station."

He sat at the little table by the window.

She came back with the first-aid box, the ice pack and a clean cloth.

She stood in front of him and tilted his chin up with two fingers.

She worked in silence for a minute.

The cloth was cool, and her hands were warm, and her breath moved the hair on his forehead.

"I need to say something," she said, still not looking at him.

"All right."

"Forty-one times, you came in through my door."

"I know."

"Forty-one times, I looked past you through the glass and saw her car at the curb."

Her voice was low and even.

"Every time, I stamped your release and said hold still, and I let you walk back out to it."

"It wasn't your job to stop me."

"No. It was my job to ask."

She dropped the cloth in the box.

"One question. Why are you going back? I never asked it."

"Hannah."

"I told myself it was none of my business."

"Hannah."

"I'm not asking you to say it's all right."

"I'm not going to."

She finally looked at him.

Her eyes were wet, and furious, and the sight of it did something to his chest that no punch had ever done.

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