Stories in the series (in order):
The Lady for a Lady
No Easy Way
Sleeping Beauties
An Act of Betrayal
The Devil You Know
Demons
The Riddle of the Night
Caitlin paced back and forth in front of Hawke. Her arms were crossed in front of her and she wore an expressionless face.
Hawke hadn't said a word since his revelation and that was five minutes ago. Since then, he was speechless. Frankly, he didn't know what else to say.
"You wrote a letter to me while I was dead. Technically, I was never dead." Caitlin blurted out.
"Technically, you were dead. For six weeks. You were dead." Hawke countered.
They both went silent again. Tet's whine was the only sound in the room. Then: "You said you're psychiatrist told you to write the letter. When did you start seeing a doctor?"
Hawke wiped at his face again and leaned back against the couch. If this was going to be a long story, he wanted to be comfortable. "After my parents died, Dominic sent Saint John and me to see a psychiatrist. He told us to write letters to our parents telling them all the things we never told them while they were alive. I did. I pulled the journal out again after Kelly died and Saint John disappeared. I found it again after we thought Horn killed you and started the letter. I never finished it. I killed Horn instead."
"In self-defense, Hawke. Dominic told me it was self-defense." She paused. "Can I read the letter?"
"I'd rather you not. You have to understand, Cait, I wasn't in a good place when I wrote that letter. I was blaming myself for not going with you when you asked me to and for not getting to you in time. To be honest, I don't remember what I wrote in the letter." He lied.
Caitlin went to the bookshelf and pulled out the journal.
"Cait, don't!" Hawke stood up and Tet sensed the tension and got to his feet as well. "I'm asking you not to read the letter. It's late. We're both tired and very likely this whole thing will be over in the morning. Let's just get some sleep. You take the bed and I'll take the couch. Please, Cait."
He was pleading and she heard the hurt in his voice. She would get a hold of the journal later and read the letter.
"Fine, I'll see you in the morning." She picked up the drink she never got to drink and carried it upstairs with her. When she got into the bedroom, she closed the door, sat on the bed, and waited.