Chapter 41 Letting Her Go
Letting Her Go
Nate to Tess: He needs you. Don’t give up on him. [delivered]
Kai
My house feels cold—empty, lifeless. I used to love that about it, but now I find myself missing Tess’s presence. Her laugh, her insistent chatter, the way she leaves behind a mess everywhere she goes like she’s letting you know she was there.
It’s too quiet. Too still. My house has always been this way, but for the first time, it reminds me of the silence after my father left. That heavy, suffocating kind of quiet. The kind that means someone should be here, but they’re not. That means I’ve been left behind—again.
The silence is thick, pressing in on me like a living thing. The air itself feels heavier, stagnant, like the house is holding its breath, waiting for something—or someone—to return.
Enzo’s people did a good job of putting the place back together. It’s not quite as pristine as I usually keep it, nothing has been put back in their exact spots, but I’m not sure I care.
I clunkily trudge up the stairs, exhaustion weighing heavily on me, but I know my mind is too wired to sleep.
Stepping into my office, I find a whole new computer set up. Begrudgingly, I can admit that Enzo has gotten me a better system than I had before. There are now four desktops sitting along the raiser, where I only had three. And it’s not lost on me that the brand is top of the line.
My desk chair hasn’t changed, thankfully, and the familiar comfort is grounding as I sink into it.
I power on the screens and take my time setting up my accounts on the new computer.
The first thing I do once everything’s set up?
I check the CCTV outside of Tess’s flat, rewinding it back to when I see Carina’s pink car pull up outside.
One door opens and Nate gets out, then Tess follows, clambering out from the back awkwardly.
Nate has to steady her, and a hot surge of jealousy ignites inside me.
Now I understand why Nate would get so possessive with Carina.
It’s not that he’d ever do anything—too obsessed with looking at Carina like her shit doesn’t stink—but I should be the only one touching her. I should be the one to help her.
Carina gets out too and they both surround her, wrapping her into a big embrace.
I zoom in when they pull away.
Her shoulders shake.
Face red and splotchy.
She’s crying.
My stomach twists, a slow, sickening churn. My fingers dig into my ribs, as if I can physically claw out the hollow ache spreading inside me.
Tess doesn’t have any bags with her. After everything that’s happened, she lost all of the belongings she brought with her after the break-in.
It’s surreal how long ago that feels. It’s only been two months since we met. Two months since Carina convinced me to help her friend in the middle of the night and I begrudgingly agreed.
I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose as I force calming breaths into my lungs.
If I could go back, and never meet her, would I?
I already know the answer.
I’d meet her a thousand times over because even a second spent in Tess’s presence would be better than never knowing her. Never knowing what it’s like to feel her warmth, to bask in the glow that is her.
I’d take all the craziness over the past few months to hear her laugh, to watch her dancing while cooking when she thinks no one is watching, to listen to her incessant chatter about everything and nothing.
Then why am I pulling away?
I already know the answer to that too.
She left me. Climbed out of bed in the middle of the night without a backward glance and handed herself over to Nikolai, knowing that it meant tying herself to another man for the rest of her life.
She wasn’t even willing to look for another option. She didn’t fight for us.
Neither did my father.
He could’ve stayed. He could’ve fought. But instead, he did the one thing I swore I’d never forgive. He left. Like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like I wasn’t even worth a second thought.
And now, Tess has done the same damn thing.
I tell myself it’s different. That Tess had no choice.
That she did it to protect herself. Protect me.
But the justifications don’t quiet the gnawing ache in my chest. If she wanted to stay, wouldn’t she have found another way?
If she wanted me as much as I wanted her, wouldn’t she have fought?
Just like he could have fought. But he didn’t. And neither did she.
I tell myself I’m not like him. That I’d never be capable of that kind of cruelty. But here I am, doing the next worst thing. Letting her go. Pushing her away before she can destroy me completely.