#Chapter 38 The Savior

I heard Andrew’s footsteps echoing down the hall. I scrambled off the floor and back onto the couch, while trying to wipe my cheeks and eyes. I knew that my mascara had run, but I hoped that he would figure that it was from the rain. “One nice, warm towel, fresh out of the dryer,” Andrew announced as he entered the sitting room. I received the towel with a gracious smile. “Thank you,” I said, though my voice sounded small. I started drying my hair, praying that Andrew hadn’t noticed the change in my voice. Of course, I wasn’t that lucky. “Is something wrong?” he asked. “No, not at all. Why?” “You seem different than when I left. Have you been crying?” I focused on rubbing my hair with the towel so that I wouldn’t have to look Andrew in the eye. I wished that I had asked for a brush or a comb, too, but I didn’t want to impose. “No, I haven’t.” “You’re lying.” It was a statement, not a question. “What makes you so sure of that?” “Because I know. Why were you crying?” Once a