He looked down, at a loss for what to say. "I'm so, so sorry. I know that I hurt you in a way that…that no one can ever fix, and I can’t imagine that keeping it all inside is making this any easier on you. If there's anything I can ever do..."
She shook her head, but he noticed she still wouldn't look at him. "I'm fine," she said simply.
"I'm not," he said honestly, "so I don't see how you could be."
That time she met his gaze, and in that short-lived moment, he saw a glimpse of her anguish, but she quickly looked away. "You didn't really have a choice."
“That doesn’t change what happened to you.”
The girl swallowed, still looking away, then she swallowed again, and he wondered if she was having a hard time keeping her composure. Finally, she met his eyes, and he saw that hers were shining. “Thank you for saying that.”
He nodded, since he wasn’t sure what to say.
The girl cleared her throat, blinking a little more rapidly than was normal. “You could’ve taken the money.”
“Wouldn’t have been right,” he said simply.
She nodded, understanding better than anyone else could why he felt that way. “Well, I should go back inside.”
He nodded in rhythm with her bobbing head, both of them clearly uncomfortable. He was glad she was the one to initiate his exit, because he didn’t know how to walk away from her. “Yeah, I should go, too.”
“Right. Wife and three kids.”
It felt like an accusation, even though he knew it wasn’t one. He didn’t say anything, merely nodded again.
Absently hooking her fingers in the back pockets of her jeans, she said, “Well, I’ll let you get back to that.”
He still didn’t feel comfortable leaving, but he felt just as uncomfortable standing there, so he finally bit the bullet and turned around, making his way down the front porch steps.
Before he made it off the last step, he found himself turning to see if she was still there.
She had turned and had her hand on the doorknob when he called out.
She stopped, hesitantly turning in his direction.
“I meant… what I said. If you ever think of anything I can do for you…”
She probably knew as well as he did there wasn’t much he could do for her—unless she wanted dirt on her boyfriend or something—but she nodded anyway. “My mom has your number.”
He couldn’t say why, but he found himself reaching into his pocket and pulling out a card. Then he found himself jotting his cell number on the back. He went back up the stairs and offered it to her.
“Just in case.”
She merely stared at the card, not moving to take it. “I don’t have a lot of use for private investigators, believe it or not.”
“Right,” he said, feeling stupid.
He just wished there was something he could do to take away even a fraction of the pain she had to be feeling.
Even though he knew it was probably even dumber, he added, “If you ever need to talk to someone who knows what happened…I’m the last person who would try to defend myself or anyone else involved.”
For a few seconds, she just stared at him, but then she reached for the card. “I highly doubt I’ll ever use it, but… just in case.”
He nodded once, his mouth curving up grimly, then he made his way back down the steps without turning back.
“Do you have any daughters?” she called out.
He stopped, flinching a little. “Yeah.”