While Daphne promised Sirona that she would make the effort to talk to Atticus, she still found herself at a loss for words when she tried to imagine how the conversation would proceed. A simple apology seemed too paltry for something of such gravitas, yet Daphne also couldn't think of a way to bridge the gap.
It was hard to be honest when she wasn't even clear about her own feelings. Daphne slumped on her bed and buried her face in the pillows. Now that they were sleeping in separate rooms, part of her did miss the scent of pine and cedar on her bedspread. It had been a comforting scent, and then a heartbreaking one, and now…
Now she didn't know what to think. Her hands fisted into the cool fabric as she sucked in a deep breath.
The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Atticus by giving him false hope. What if she claimed to forgive him and love him, only to find herself unable to stop flinching at his touch?
