I didn't know what to say, but it seemed like Kipp didn't need me to say anything.
“It took me a long time to work through the guilt, and even now I still feel it sometimes,” he said. “But I've never gotten over the regret. Obviously, most of it because I felt like I could've stopped it from happening altogether, but part of it is because I never took the opportunity to tell her how I felt.” Another pause, and then he added, “Don't make the same mistake I did. If Nori doesn't feel the same, at least you'll know.”
It was funny. The father was gone and I was still getting the same message he would've given me if was alive.
“Thanks, Kipp.”
“No problem,” he said. “And, X?”
“Yeah?”
“Make sure I get an invite to the wedding.”
I'd never been the sort of person who believed in things like signs and all that, but even I had to admit that it felt like something or someone wanted Nori and me together. Or at least, wanted me to be honest with her.
I had things I needed to do. Talking to someone about the father's funeral next Saturday. Finishing contacting people who needed to know about his death. Talk to the lawyer about the reading of the will. Find out what other things I needed to do. I'd never had to do any of this before. My mother and sister died while I was still inside, and there hadn't been any insurance. There'd been no funeral or anything like that.
I knew I could do it myself, but I didn't want to. Even if it was just as a friend, I wanted Nori with me through all of this.
No good would come from putting it off any longer. I stood and headed for the stairs. This time, I wouldn't leave until I'd told her everything. One way or another, it would all come out this morning.
I listened for the television or shower, but couldn't hear either. I didn't know if that meant she was still sleeping or was just being quiet, but I figured I'd start at the bedroom. I winced as I knocked, my headache still present enough to dislike the sound.
Then the door slid open a crack and I pushed the headache to the back of my mind.
“Nori?” I called softly. She hadn't shut the door all the way, but that didn't mean she wasn't dressing or something like that. “Nori? I knocked and the door opened. Can I come in? We need to talk.”
Nothing.
I frowned. Surely she would've at least told me to get out if that's what she wanted. I pushed the door open farther.
“Nori?”
I took in everything at once. The rumpled bed. Dresser drawers open. Clothes on the bed and floor.
Shit.
I went inside. “Nori?”
Still no answer.
I opened the closet door to find it empty. A knot was starting to form in my stomach. I checked in the bathroom. Her toothbrush and all those sorts of things were gone too. The living room was next, but she hadn't brought much with her in the way of décor or anything like that, so it was hard to tell if anything was missing from there.
Not that I really needed to see any more proof.
I ran down the stairs, praying that she was still here. I called her name as I went from room to room, finding each one empty. I looked outside and saw the car Father O'Toole had given her permission to use. The keys were still in the basket next to the door. She hadn't taken the car.
Which meant someone picked her up.
Which meant she hadn't planned on needing a ride back to the house.
The truth hit me like a physical blow.
Nori had left me.
Continues in Dom X Vol. 5
Dom X - Volume Five
Dom X
Chapter One
Xavier
Nori was gone.
She left me.
I kept saying it over and over again, hoping that saying it would change things. That, somehow, it wouldn't be true. It couldn't be. She wouldn't have just left without a word. That wasn't like her.
Then again...
I thought back over the last two days, over how well things had been going until I'd inevitably fucked everything up. First, by sleeping with Nori in a moment of weakness, then acting like an ass the next morning. And, of course, I couldn't forget the whole incident with Kipp either. It'd been the fact that I'd punched my physical therapist for inquiring about Nori that had led to her confronting me in the kitchen. I'd assumed that my surly attitude would piss her off, but I hadn't imagined she'd end the argument by saying that she couldn't work with me anymore.
I tried to apologize, but she'd ignored my attempts. I'd thought for sure that she'd calm down and we'd finally have our talk. She knew how hard losing Father O'Toole had been – and still was – and I didn't doubt that once I told her how sorry I was, she'd help me through all of it. That she'd be there because I needed her.
Or so I thought.
I'd come up to the third floor this morning with the intention of not moving from in front of her door until I'd had my say. Except her door had been partially open, and when I'd gone inside, her things were gone. At some point between when I began drinking myself into a stupor and when I'd woken up, she left.