Daniel by Dakota Rebel

Author:Dakota Rebel
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: FAMILY SAGA ROMANCE, SECOND CHANCE ROMANCE, ALCOHOLIC ROMANCE, SMALL TOWN ROMANCE BOOKS, RECOVERY ROMANCE
Publisher: Supernova Indie Publishing Services LLC
Published: 2020-04-20T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

~Daniel~

Waking up with Abby in my arms was like a double-edged sword. It reminded me how much I loved her, and it reminded why I didn’t deserve her. After everything I’d done in my life, this happiness was not meant for me. Not anymore.

“Good morning,” she whispered as she burrowed closer to me. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed, leaning over to kiss her head. “I’ve got to get to the office soon.”

“I know.” She sounded disappointed and it felt like a fist around my heart. I hated disappointing her. “Do you have time for breakfast?”

“Just coffee if you don’t mind.”

She rolled away and got out of bed, her naked body even more beautiful than I remembered in the soft light already filtering through the curtains. She grabbed a robe from her closet then looked back at me, smiling softly before heading into the hall.

I blew out a sigh. I was so late, but I didn’t want to leave. I wanted nothing more than to grab Abby and drag her back to bed. To keep her here all day. Worship her and make love to her for hours.

But there was too much…everything. I didn’t want to give her false hope that we’d get back together. There was an arsonist loose in our town that we seemed no closer to catching. And I should probably get to a meeting at some point today.

After having such a rough day yesterday and giving in to the temptation that was my ex-wife, it would probably be a good idea to ground myself a little.

I climbed out of bed and got dressed in dirty clothes I’d worn the day before, then headed downstairs in search of the coffee I could already smell.

“You’ve got some mail in that drawer,” Abby said when I reached the kitchen. She pointed at the sideboard drawer she kept my things in.

I tried to open it, but had to yank a few times before it finally gave.

“Sorry,” I said, remembering that I’d promised to fix this last time I was here.

“It’s fine,” she promised. “I don’t use it much and forget it’s broken most of the time.”

I wiggled the drawer, trying to get it loose, then finally sat on the floor, opened the cupboard beneath it and reached up, shoving from behind while pulling from the front until the damn thing finally came free.

An envelope fell into the cupboard, wrinkled and torn as if it had been jammed in the mechanism.

“I think this was the problem,” I said, holding up the letter.

“What is that?” she asked, walking over and handing me a mug.

I turned the envelope over and I heard Abby’s breath hitch. It was the apology letter I’d written to Bill Critch as part of my twelve steps. I’d sent it to him at his address at the prison, but judging from the faded red “deceased” stamp on the front, it hadn’t made it in time.

“I’d forgotten that was returned,” she whispered. “It must have gotten stuck in the back of the drawer and it just slipped my mind.

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