CHAPTER 8
Two weeks later, Drew took Alyssa on a mysterious drive. She'd been released from the hospital, and he had, as promised, taken her to his apartment, and set her up in the guest bedroom. He wouldn't take no for an answer, she thought, leaning her head on the passenger door's window. He'd also escorted her to her father's funeral at the Basilica. He really was very sweet, holding her hand, waiting to comfort her. But I didn't need it. Although people who had scarcely known David Miller had wept, Alyssa hadn't. She had sat, still and silent, as the priest spoke over her father, summing up his life in a few kind words. The memory of the funeral and its lingering, unsettling coldness disturbed her. What's wrong with me that I can't mourn my own father? She felt dead inside, frozen. A
