Any other emotions Brendan could have felt had been displaced by unrelenting ire. “God, I’m going home. I’ll see her tomorrow.”

That took Steven by surprise, but he nodded nonetheless. “Shall I drive you home now?”

“No. Pass me the keys. I’ll drive.”

He checked his suit and headed to the parking garage, almost a little too frantically.

His car zipped through the road, tearing through the air like a fired bullet. When he arrived, he immediately scanned the living room. Resentment flitted past his eyes—he had thought that it would at least be lit.

Because that would mean someone was waiting for him to come home.

He checked himself. She was blind. Whether a room was lit or not did not matter. He was sure she would be reclining on the couch, just like she used to. Waiting.

Brendan strode toward the door and pushed it open.

The living room was completely empty. Even the dining table was empty—devoid of the warm supper that was once her staple form of welcome.

The days when Dei