Devil's Due [h.s.]

Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Morgan's eyes lingered on the door that Harry had just disappeared behind. She wordlessly furrowed her brows, the small crease on her skin only visible when she finally drifted her gaze back over to mine, a muted look of confusion having overtaken her features.

"What?" I mumbled.

Her mouth parted and for a moment it looked like she was going to say something until she seemed to decide against it at the last second. "Nothing." She shook her head, fiddling with the end of her ponytail. "Wanna go for a walk?"

I glanced up the street, feeling a small swell of annoyance form in the pit of my stomach. Of course, she was able to just go for leisurely walks unattended whenever she wanted. It must be nice not to have scary black SUVs tailing you everywhere.

"Sure," I agreed quietly, gesturing for her to lead the way.

It was cloudy out today. The sidewalks were damp and darkened, still recovering from the rainfall that had hit only a few hours prior and I'd left my jacket inside my duffel bag that was probably still on Harry's shoulder. Thankfully, I hadn't changed out of my long-sleeve shirt and despite the initial chill that worked its way through me as we took the first few silent steps, I wasn't cold.

Just... annoyed. Tired. Already regretting having agreed to talk to Morgan when I was barely energized enough to deal with Harry today.

"I know you probably don't want to talk to me," Morgan broke the silence softly a few minutes down the road. She'd maintained a few feet of cordial distance between us, obviously wary to get any closer. "And that I shouldn't keep trying to get you to when you haven't answered my texts."

"I was going to reply," I answered honestly, fiddling with the hem of my shirt and keeping my gaze downcast. "I've just been... really busy."

"Right..." Morgan trailed off, wringing her hands together.

A few more seconds of silence passed before she suddenly reached forward, gently slowing the two of us to a stop in front of a small bookstore. We held each other's gaze for a beat, Morgan anxiously chewing on her lower lip, her face a bit pink from the wind.

"I'm sorry," she blurted, giving her head a small shake. "Really sorry, River. I know that it doesn't mean anything at this point and you probably don't believe me but–"

"I do believe you," I cut in, angling my head to the side.

Morgan's brows twitched together again. "You do?"

"You wouldn't have gone to all of this trouble to talk to me if you weren't sorry," I said quietly, shrugging a shoulder and jerking my chin toward a bench a few feet away. "Let's sit."

She followed me on nervous feet, making sure to keep a few inches between as we both sat down. Her leg bounced anxiously, and she knitted her fingers together, bracing them on her knee to hold herself still.

Morgan's body language alone showed me how upset and apologetic she was. In a similar fashion to Harry, she seemed to feel nervous expressing herself – almost like she wasn't sure she was saying the right or was worried about pissing me off. Granted, her communication skills had already trumped his by a landslide the moment she'd willingly initiated the conversation.

"Do you want a smoke?" She mumbled, fumbling around in her pocket to withdraw a cigarette carton. I shook my head, watching her pull one out and perch it between her teeth with a curt nod.

"Here," I said, watching her pat around trying to find a light. From my pocket, I withdrew Harry's that he'd almost left on the table this afternoon. She glanced at it but said nothing when I leaned forward, sparking it to life.