Request - Deputy Jordan Parrish “I’m sorry, forgive me.” (Sequel to: “Time has Changed us” and “Below the line.”)

He hid his hands in the pockets of his jacket. They were sweating and trembling a little bit and he closed his eyes before taking a deep breath.
He had been sending you one text a day for a week, had been trying to call you a few times. He had even tried coming to your house, ringing the doorbell.
But you were still ignoring him. You had not sent one text back, had not once picked up the phone, had not once opened the door.
“Excuse me, could you tell me if Miss (Y/L/N) is working here?” He forced himself to smile, his heart beating in his chest, his hands only getting wetter and wetter.
“Yes, she does work here. I’m going to call her office to see if she’s there, just one moment please.” Her voice sounded soft and almost like singing and he nodded, feeling everything but calm, wanting to wait everything but just one moment.
He had a lot to make up for. He had to make up for everything he had done and said in the past, he had to make up for everything he had done and said just a couple of days ago, he had to make up for all the mistakes he would probably make in the future.
“I’m sorry, Sir, but one of her colleagues just tells me that she’s ill at home, I’m sorry.” She dropped the phone again.
“Thank you, I’ll come back tomorrow to see if she feels better.” He nodded, walking back outside, noticing that your car was standing at the parking lot, seeing how someone was staring out of the windows on the top floor of the building.
He sighed. He knew that he had hurt you, in the past, three days ago, probably in the future. He knew that he had a long way to go, but he just wished that you would give him a chance, a fair chance.
But he also knew that as a deputy he couldn’t step in again, demanding those people to tell you where you were, why you were hiding. He couldn’t lower himself to the level of stalking, he didn’t want to lower himself to the level of stalking.
He sighed again. There was no other option than his promise to the girl behind the reception. He couldn’t come back tomorrow and the day after and the day after and the day after. Until you would no longer be hiding, until you would notice that he really wanted to see you, until you would notice that something had changed, that he had grown to like you, maybe to even love you.
For a moment he took his cellphone out of his pocket, staring at it, doubting if he would send you another message or not. He knew there was nothing left to say anymore. He knew he had sent every possible text over and over again. He knew he should just leave you alone for a while, should give you the chance to think about things, to forget about things, to forgive things.
He could have known that wounds needed time to heal, way more time than he had actually given you. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“I hope you’ll miss me when I stop bothering you…” He whispered to himself and stepped back into his car, driving away.