Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Sylvia
I pull the light blanket off my mom’s bed and set a small, battery powered fan on the nightstand. As of now, the power is still on, and the temperature hasn’t risen too much. It’s only a matter of time, though, before we lose power like we always do in storms like this.
I’m dying to check on Mateo, make sure he has fans ready for when the house gets hot, make sure he finds something to eat, but I manage to keep myself in my room. He’s a grown man, perfectly capable of feeding himself and making his own bed.
As always, my mind drifts to thoughts of what his life must be like now.
I know from social media and bits of gossip my mother manages to pass on that he has a job at a community clinic in Chicago.
He must have an apartment there in the city.
I wonder what his couch looks like, what kind of dishes he picked out for himself, what his bedroom looks like… and who shares it with him.
Stop, Sylvia.
I force my mind back to safer territory. The last thing I need to do right now is go into a full doom spiral with the man actually under the same roof as me.
Something that was never, ever supposed to happen.
I know going through the speech I’ve prepared isn’t going to make me feel better, but it’s necessary. It’s only a matter of time before the road clears enough for the family to come home.
For him to come home and find me here with his son.
Maybe it would be better to hide. To run, even. There are plenty of raincoats and boots in the garage. I could leave at first light, make my way into town, and find somewhere to ride out the worst of the winds and flooding.
But it’s no use. Mr. Ricci’s words from eight years ago echo through my mind as if he’d only spoken them yesterday.
“You can’t run or hide. Wherever you go, I will find you. The choice is yours, Sylvia.”
Think of your mother, he’d said. Think of her job, her visa, her livelihood, the home she enjoys at the estate.
I try to think of my mother now, how worried she must be, trapped in town, knowing I'm here at the estate.
But I can’t make myself.
There’s only one person my traitorous mind is willing to conjure up images of, and it’s the man sleeping just upstairs from me.
The shape of his muscular chest under my fingers as I ran my hand over it.
The smile he always had waiting for me, even after the harshest of his father’s criticism.
The secret future we planned during those late nights when he would sneak me up to his room.
The future he’s now living…without me.
The lamp goes dark beside me, but I’m not surprised.
I should get up and pull the drapes closed, but I can’t muster up the energy to move just yet.
When the crash comes, I barely have time to shield my face before the whole world becomes a blur of wind and wet, flying objects.