29. Saying Goodbye
SAYING GOODBYE
TESSA
I press my palm against the hard planes of Saul’s chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my fingers—a rhythm that both calms and terrifies me. We stand shrouded in the dark on the porch of his cabin, the night air thick with warning, the faint scent of cedar and lake water swirling around us.
“You need to be careful,” I whisper, my voice low but insistent. The urgency laces each word like an invisible thread tugging between us. His eyes lock on mine, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths—fear, resolve, and something deeper and unspoken.
He nods, the motion slow and reluctant, as if each movement costs him something. “You shouldn’t be moving around the city too much,” I continue, my tone firm even as my insides twist. “Stay here. Get everything ready for our trip. I’ll go home, pack what I need, and talk to Selene.”
For a moment, he doesn’t respond; he stares at me like he’s memorizing my face, burning the image into his mind. Finally, with a sharp breath, he picks up his phone and briefly growls an order—his movements brisk, almost mechanical. I know he’s agreeing, but his wariness wears on his face.
When he steps back, the space he creates feels like an eternity, an ache that stretches wider than the porch we’re standing on.
“Be safe,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me and settles deep in my chest.
I force a smile even though my heart is pounding. “Always am,” I reply, my words lighter than I feel.
But he doesn’t smile back. Instead, in a single stride, he closes the distance between us and pulls me into his arms. His kiss is fierce, consuming, claiming—like he’s memorizing every curve of my mouth, every taste, every sigh as if he’ll never get the chance again.
“Come back,” he breathes against my lips, the faint hitch in his voice betraying his fear—the vulnerability in his tone slicing through me, raw and unguarded.
“Of course,” I answer, my voice steadier than I feel. But as I turn away, my confidence falters, the tremor in my chest threatening to rise. I can’t let him see it. Not now.
A blacked-out Range Rover emerges from the shadows, its sudden presence commanding. The vehicle is massive and built like a tank, and its tinted windows give no hint of who—or what—might be inside.
“Where the hell did that come from?” I murmur, my breath catching as the SUV comes to a stop.
Saul’s lips press into a tight line, his jaw flexing as his eyes dart to the vehicle. His hand lingers on my lower back, protective and firm. “Never mind that,” he says, his tone low and clipped, though his gaze stays locked on the car.
For a fleeting moment, I wonder if he’s more than a man running from his past. The precision, the readiness, the sheer presence of him—it’s as if he’s been preparing for this his entire life.
The driver steps out, dressed in all black, their movements smooth and calculated. Saul nods to them, and without another word, I’m guided toward the waiting SUV.
“Trust me,” he says softly, his hand tightening briefly on my waist before he releases me.
I glance back at him one last time before sliding into the passenger seat, his silhouette framed against the cabin’s warm light. He stands there, unmoving, a fortress of strength and fear, watching me like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever held—and the one thing he’s most terrified to lose.
* * *
The ride to my house is a blur of streetlights, the rhythmic hum of the engine fading into the background as my thoughts race. My fingers tap nervously against the seat, my mind replaying Saul’s words and the lingering heat of his kiss. His urgency is etched into my chest, but so is the uncertainty of what comes next.
When the Range Rover pulls up in front of my apartment, my stomach drops when I see Selene’s sleek black BMW X3 parked neatly out front. Irritation pricks at me, sharp and immediate. I should’ve never given her a key, but beneath the annoyance is a flicker of relief. Selene always shows up when I need her most, even if her timing makes me scream. I wanted to speak to her after I had a few stiff drinks.
I barely make it up the steps before the door swings open. Selene is standing there, arms crossed, and her expression unrelenting. Her sharp brown eyes bore into mine, and her disapproval practically radiates from her.
“Where have you been?” she demands, her tone immovable.
“Out,” I reply flatly, brushing past her into the apartment. I dump my purse on the kitchen counter, ignoring the tension that follows me like a shadow.
“Out where?” she presses, trailing me. “Tessa, the police were looking for you and your mystery man. What the hell is going on?”
I spin around, exhaling sharply. “Selene, can you just give me a minute?”
“Give you a minute?” she snaps, her voice rising. “Tessa, you’re disappearing into the night with a man with two names, and now the cops are involved. You expect me to sit back and wait while you get into God-knows-what?”
Her words land hard, and I struggle to keep my composure. She’s relentless, but she’s not wrong.
“It’s complicated,” I say, my tone softer now.
Selene’s laugh is harsh, her frustration palpable. “Complicated? Tessa, you’re out here playing Bonnie to some guy’s Clyde, and now it’s complicated ? What did Marcus—Saul—whatever his name is—get you into?”
Her accusation stings, but the concern buried beneath it twists something inside me.
“It’s not like that,” I say, shaking my head. But the words sound thin, even to me.
“Then what is it like?” she shoots back, stepping closer. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re diving headfirst into a mess you’re not ready for. The cops don’t just show up for no reason, Tessa. What aren’t you telling me?”
I glance away, the weight of her question pressing down on me. “Selene, I can’t—this isn’t something I can just explain.”
Her frustration simmers, but her voice softens enough to let me know she’s not all bark. “I’m already involved, Tessa. The second those cops came to my door, I was in it. So stop shutting me out and tell me what’s going on.”
"Selene, what did you tell them?" I ask, dread pooling in my stomach.
She throws her hands up, frustration radiating off her in waves. "Tessa! You know damn well we don't talk to the police! I'm not the Ops. Now tell me, what kind of shit has Marcus or Saul or whatever his name is gotten you into?"
Her words sting like salt in an open wound. She's right; we don't snitch. But how can I explain Saul's world to her—its dangers and strange allure—without dragging her into the deep end with me? How can I make her understand why my soul is tethered to his despite the chaos that follows?
I hesitate, my hands gripping the counter’s edge as I weigh my options. “Saul’s past... it’s complicated. He’s not bad, but he’s made choices to protect the people he loves. And now, we’re in a situation where we need to lie low for a while.”
Her arms drop, her expression shifting from anger to disbelief. “Lie low? Tessa, do you hear yourself? You’re talking about hiding out like fugitives. For what? For some guy?”
“He’s not just some guy,” I snap, my voice rising before I stop myself. “He’s... everything. He’s done nothing but protect me since the day we met, Selene. You don’t have to understand, but I need you to trust me.”
Her eyes search mine, her expression wavering between worry and reluctant acceptance. “And what happens if this blows up in your face? What happens then?”
“It won’t,” I say firmly, but the tremor in my voice betrays me.
Selene sighs, her shoulders sagging slightly. “I don’t like this, Tessa. But if you’re sure... I’ll back you. Just don’t make me regret it.”
“You won’t,” I say, hoping it’s true.
As she finally nods, the tension in the room shifts. It’s not gone entirely but feels like the smallest step forward.
I guide Selene to the plush couch, her familiar floral scent swirling in the air as she moves. My hands are trembling, but I steady them on her shoulders and gently urge her to sit. Her presence has always been a mix of comfort and challenge, and right now, I need both.
"Selene," I begin, my voice barely above a whisper, "there's a lot I can't tell you—things that could put you in harm's way." My eyes meet hers, silently pleading for her understanding.
She sits, crossing her arms, her face a picture of calm determination. "What is it, Tessa?" Her tone is that no-nonsense nurse voice I know so well, soothing but unyielding, demanding honesty.
I take a breath, the words thick in my throat. "First off... Saul, he’s not just some guy." The admission feels like peeling back a protective layer, exposing too much. "He made a choice—a crazy, reckless choice—all to protect his family. His sister, his grandmother.”
Selene’s expression softens, her fierce love for me written in the furrow of her brow. "And you?" she asks, her voice gentle but probing.
"Me too, Selene," I admit, the truth heavier than anticipated. "He did it for me too." I drop onto the couch beside her, wringing my hands. "We're planning to go to Ghana for a while. Get away from all this mess. You could come with us."
Her brow arches, her disbelief evident. "Lord, Tessa." She exhales, rubbing her temples like she’s trying to massage away the chaos I’ve just handed her. "Ghana? And what about your catering business? You built it from scratch, and it’s thriving."
Because Saul opened doors for me, damn, I love him.
"I’ll pause it," I say, my voice quieter now. "Just for a bit. And..." I hesitate, glancing down at the pearls looped around my neck, their weight steadying me. Saul looped them around my neck before I stepped outside. I’d almost left them.
I look down at my hands and lace them together. "He proposed again. But I didn’t get to answer because the cops pounded on his door at that exact moment."
Selene’s head snaps up, her sharp gaze locking on to mine.
"Proposed?" Her tone pitches high, incredulous. "Well, at least you were saved by the damn bell. Tessa, you better not say yes to his fine ass that easily again. He’s got to work harder than dicking my baby sister down good for one night to get back in your marriage graces."
"Selene!" I burst into laughter, half scandalized, half relieved at her audacity. It breaks the tension, loosening the tight grip of worry around my chest.
"Don’t ‘Selene’ me." She waves me off, but her expression grows serious again. "If you still think he’s the one, then fine. But I’m telling you, he needs to grovel. And I mean grovel. "
"He did, Selene," I insist, the heat of my conviction rising to my cheeks. "You don’t know how much he’s already done."
Her hand wraps around mine, firm and grounding. "I love you more than life, Tessa. You’re the most vibrant, giving person I’ve ever met, and I wouldn’t just hand you over to anyone. But there’s something about him, isn’t there? Something you’re not saying."
My throat tightens, and I nod, my voice catching as I try to explain. "It sounds crazy, but Mama and her ancestors led me back to him. I’ve had dreams, Selene. And these pearls? They heat against my skin whenever I try to walk away from him. From us. It feels... like fate."
"Girl, you and your dreams." She shakes her head, her skepticism clear, but her eyes soften. "Look, if you’re going to Ghana to start this restaurant and pop out his ashy Black babies, you make him earn it every single day. So, when are you supposed to meet him?"
"Two hours," I reply, the weight of the number settling over me like a countdown to forever.
Selene smirks, the sharp edge of her wit returning. "Make it two hours and thirty minutes. Let him sweat a little. That man owes you at least that."
I smile, feeling a spark of rebellious thrill ignite. "Two and a half hours it is."
"Good." She squeezes my hand, her warmth a balm to my frayed nerves. "Now, let’s figure out what you’ll wear on the flight to your new life. Let’s find something unforgettable."
For the first time all day, my chest feels a little lighter.
"Unforgettable," I repeat, my grin growing. "Let’s make him sweat."