thought. Easier if she could be a coward and turn away as she said the words. Diana kept her eyes on his. "I want to apologize."
Justin lifted a brow as he started to slip on his shirt. "What for?"
"For everything I haven't done or said since I came here."
He watched her as he buttoned his shirt, but his eyes told her nothing. He knew how to keep his thoughts to himself, she realized. That was why he was a gambler, and a success at it. "You have nothing to apologize for, Diana."
"Justin." His name came out in a plea as she stepped toward him. Stopping herself, Diana turned away a moment "I'm not doing this well. Strange, I make my living stringing the right words together, but I just can't find them."
"Diana, you don't have to do this." He wanted to touch her, but thinking she'd only stiffen, he slipped his hands into his pockets. "I don't expect you to feel anything."
Gathering her courage again, she faced him. "I owe you," she said quietly.
Instantly, his eyes were remote and unfathomable. "You owe me nothing."
"Everything," she corrected. "Justin, you should have told me!" she said with sudden passion. "I had a right to know."
"To know what?" he countered coolly.
"Stop it!" she demanded and grabbed his shirtfront with both hands.
He thought as he looked down at her that there was more of the girl he remembered than he'd realized. Here was the verve and the fire. Lifting a brow, he studied her stubborn, furious face. "You always were a brat," he murmured. "Perhaps if you calm down, you might tell me what's on your mind."
"Stop treating me as though I were still six years old!" she demanded as her fingers tightened on his shirt.
It amused him to hear her shout, and wiped away the image of the cool sophisticate who had walked back into his life a few days before. "Stop behaving as though you were," he advised. "There've been things you've wanted to say to me since I walked into this room and found you here. Say them now."
Diana took a deep breath. She'd wanted to apologize, not to shout and accuse. But the control she'd practiced so scrupulously for so many years was lost. "All those years I resented you, even tried to hate you for forgetting me."
"I think I understand that," he said steadily.
"No." Shaking her head, she dug her fingers into his shirt in frustration. Tears began to gather and spill, but she didn't wipe them away because she didn't feel them. "How could you when I could never tell you? I lost everything so quickly, Justin. Lost everyone." Her voice trembled, but she couldn't steady it. "I thought at first all of you had left because I was too much trouble."
He made a soft sound and touched her for the first time—a hand absently passed through her hair as he had done from time to time so many years before. "I didn't know how to make you understand. You were so small."
"I understand now," Diana began. "Justin—" She broke on the word, fighting off a sob. She had to say it all, even if he turned away after she was done. "Everything you did for me—"
"Was necessary." He cut her off and was no longer touching her. "No more, no less."
"Justin, please…" She didn't know how to ask for love. If she had one lingering fear, it was to try and to fail. While he watched, she struggled for words. "I want to thank you," she managed. "You've every right to be angry, but—"
"There's nothing I've done you have to thank me for."
She bit down on her lip to stop the trembling. "You felt obligated," she murmured.
"No." He touched her again, just the tips of her hair. "I loved you."
Her lips parted, but there was no sound. He was offering her love… He wouldn't accept gratitude. She wouldn't give him tears. Instead, Diana reached for his hand. "Be my friend."
Justin felt something unknot in his stomach. Slowly, he brought her hand to his lips, then spreading her fingers, he placed her palm to his. "We're blood, little sister. I've always loved you. From today, we're friends."
"From today," she agreed,
Justin lifted a brow as he started to slip on his shirt. "What for?"
"For everything I haven't done or said since I came here."
He watched her as he buttoned his shirt, but his eyes told her nothing. He knew how to keep his thoughts to himself, she realized. That was why he was a gambler, and a success at it. "You have nothing to apologize for, Diana."
"Justin." His name came out in a plea as she stepped toward him. Stopping herself, Diana turned away a moment "I'm not doing this well. Strange, I make my living stringing the right words together, but I just can't find them."
"Diana, you don't have to do this." He wanted to touch her, but thinking she'd only stiffen, he slipped his hands into his pockets. "I don't expect you to feel anything."
Gathering her courage again, she faced him. "I owe you," she said quietly.
Instantly, his eyes were remote and unfathomable. "You owe me nothing."
"Everything," she corrected. "Justin, you should have told me!" she said with sudden passion. "I had a right to know."
"To know what?" he countered coolly.
"Stop it!" she demanded and grabbed his shirtfront with both hands.
He thought as he looked down at her that there was more of the girl he remembered than he'd realized. Here was the verve and the fire. Lifting a brow, he studied her stubborn, furious face. "You always were a brat," he murmured. "Perhaps if you calm down, you might tell me what's on your mind."
"Stop treating me as though I were still six years old!" she demanded as her fingers tightened on his shirt.
It amused him to hear her shout, and wiped away the image of the cool sophisticate who had walked back into his life a few days before. "Stop behaving as though you were," he advised. "There've been things you've wanted to say to me since I walked into this room and found you here. Say them now."
Diana took a deep breath. She'd wanted to apologize, not to shout and accuse. But the control she'd practiced so scrupulously for so many years was lost. "All those years I resented you, even tried to hate you for forgetting me."
"I think I understand that," he said steadily.
"No." Shaking her head, she dug her fingers into his shirt in frustration. Tears began to gather and spill, but she didn't wipe them away because she didn't feel them. "How could you when I could never tell you? I lost everything so quickly, Justin. Lost everyone." Her voice trembled, but she couldn't steady it. "I thought at first all of you had left because I was too much trouble."
He made a soft sound and touched her for the first time—a hand absently passed through her hair as he had done from time to time so many years before. "I didn't know how to make you understand. You were so small."
"I understand now," Diana began. "Justin—" She broke on the word, fighting off a sob. She had to say it all, even if he turned away after she was done. "Everything you did for me—"
"Was necessary." He cut her off and was no longer touching her. "No more, no less."
"Justin, please…" She didn't know how to ask for love. If she had one lingering fear, it was to try and to fail. While he watched, she struggled for words. "I want to thank you," she managed. "You've every right to be angry, but—"
"There's nothing I've done you have to thank me for."
She bit down on her lip to stop the trembling. "You felt obligated," she murmured.
"No." He touched her again, just the tips of her hair. "I loved you."
Her lips parted, but there was no sound. He was offering her love… He wouldn't accept gratitude. She wouldn't give him tears. Instead, Diana reached for his hand. "Be my friend."
Justin felt something unknot in his stomach. Slowly, he brought her hand to his lips, then spreading her fingers, he placed her palm to his. "We're blood, little sister. I've always loved you. From today, we're friends."
"From today," she agreed,
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