Chapter 28 Isabella #2
Then I just stand there, gripping the edge of the counter, trying to breathe.
I can hear Lupo's voice from the other room, low and gentle, talking to Elena. Telling her about how brave she is. How proud he is of her. How much he's going to miss her.
Every word is a knife in my chest.
I force myself to move. Walk to the living room. Elena has fallen into an exhausted sleep against Lupo's chest, her face blotchy and tear-stained.
"She cried herself out," he says quietly.
"She'll be devastated when she wakes up and you're gone."
He looks down at her, his hand smoothing her hair. "I'm sorry. For all of this. For—"
"Don't." I set the bag down by the door. "There's food. Coffee. It's not much, but—"
"Thank you."
We stand there in terrible silence, the minutes ticking by. Elena sleeps on, oblivious. Lupo holds her like he's trying to memorize the weight of her in his arms.
"I should go to the barn," he finally says. "Get the gun. I can't leave it here."
"Okay."
He starts to shift Elena, trying not to wake her, but I stop him. "Let me take her."
I lift her carefully from his arms. She stirs but doesn't wake, just makes a small sound and settles against me. Lupo stands, and for a moment we're close enough to touch.
"Isabella—"
"Go get your things. They'll be here soon."
He looks at me for a long moment, something desperate in his eyes. Then he turns and walks out.
I carry Elena to her room and lay her in her bed, covering her with her favorite blanket. She looks so small, innocent. She has no idea that her whole world just changed.
I stand there watching her sleep, my hand on her back, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing.
How am I going to do this? How am I going to explain when she wakes up and he's gone? How am I going to survive the questions, the tears, the waiting?
How am I going to survive any of this?
I hear the sound of a car in the distance. Getting closer.
They're here.
I walk back to the living room. Lupo is already there, standing by the door, the gun tucked into his waistband under his shirt. He looks different somehow. Harder. Like he's already starting to become the boss again.
The car pulls into the yard, the black sedan, expensive and out of place. Two men get out. One of them is Ciro, the older man with gray hair. The other is younger, built like a soldier.
Lupo picks up the bag I made for him. Then he turns to me.
"I don't know what to say," he admits quietly.
"Then don't say anything."
"Isabella—"
"Just go." My voice breaks. "Before I beg you to stay. Before I make this harder than it already is. Just go."
He crosses the space between us in two steps and pulls me into his arms. I let myself have this—one last moment of feeling safe, feeling held, feeling like I matter to someone.
"I'll come back," he whispers into my hair. "I swear to you, I'll find a way back."
"Don't make promises you can't keep."
"I'm not." He pulls back to look at me, his hands framing my face. "This isn't goodbye, Isabella. It's just—"
"It's goodbye," I interrupt. "We both know it. Stop pretending."
For a moment, I think he's going to argue. Going to insist again that he'll come back, that we'll see each other again, that this is all going to work out somehow.
But he doesn't. Because he knows I'm right.
Instead, he kisses me. One last time. It's not desperate like last night. It's gentle. Tender. Like he's trying to say everything he can't put into words.
I love you. I'm sorry. Thank you. Goodbye.
When he pulls away, his eyes are bright with unshed tears.
"Take care of her," he says. "Take care of both of you."
"We'll be fine." The lie tastes bitter. "Go."
He nods. Picks up the bag. Walks to the door.
Then he pauses, his hand on the doorknob, and looks back at me one last time.
"Isabella—"
"Go!" The word comes out sharp, almost angry. Because if he doesn't leave right now, I'm going to fall apart completely. "Please just go."
He opens the door and walks out. I don't follow him. Can't watch him get in that car and drive away. Instead, I stand in the middle of the living room, my arms wrapped around myself, and listen.
The sound of car doors opening and closing. Low male voices. The engine starting.
Then the car pulling away, tires crunching on the gravel drive. The sound getting fainter. Farther. Until there's nothing but silence.
He's gone.
I sink onto the sofa, right where he was sitting just minutes ago. It still smells like him. Still holds the warmth of his body.
And I finally let myself break.
I cry silently, my hands pressed to my mouth to muffle the sounds. Because Elena is sleeping and I can't let her hear me fall apart. I have to be strong for her. Have to hold myself together.
But right now, alone in this empty house, I let myself feel the full weight of what just happened.
The man I—the man we—
He's gone.
And I have no idea if he's ever coming back.
From Elena's room, I hear a small sound. She's waking up.
I wipe my eyes quickly, take a shaky breath, and force myself to stand.
Because this is my life now. Picking up the pieces. Holding my daughter while she cries for the father who left. Pretending that everything will be okay when I know it might not be.
Surviving.
Like I always do.