Chapter 15 Isabella #2
“How about lunch?” he suggested. “There’s a great little café near the river. My treat.”
Isabella agreed, and they found themselves at a charming outdoor café overlooking the Matanzas River. They ordered sandwiches and sat at a small table, watching boats drift by and tourists stroll along the waterfront.
After they ate, Christopher suggested a walk, and they ended up at a vendor selling roasted chestnuts. The smell was heavenly, and soon they were strolling along the river walk with warm paper cones of chestnuts, just talking.
“Tell me about your parents,” Isabella said, genuinely curious about the man who’d become so important to her in such a short time.
Christopher was quiet for a moment, his expression thoughtful.
“They were both career military. Army. They met during a deployment and got married quickly, the way military people sometimes do.” He paused, cracking open a chestnut.
“They loved each other, I think. But they loved the Army more. Or at least, they loved it as much.”
“That must have been hard,” Isabella said softly.
“Holly basically raised me,” Christopher continued.
“My parents were deployed more often than they were home. By the time I was ten, I spent more nights at the Bennett house than my own.” He smiled slightly.
“Gabe and I have been brothers since we could walk. Trinity calls me uncle because that’s basically what I am. ”
“Do you resent them? Your parents?” Isabella asked him.
Christopher considered the question seriously.
“When they both died in a training accident when I was in my late teens, I was heartbroken. But not as much as I thought I’d be, which made me feel guilty.
” He looked at Isabella, something vulnerable in his eyes.
“Truthfully, I think I’m going to feel more one day if anything happens to Holly or Charlie.
They’re my real family, you know? The people who were there for every scraped knee and bad grade and teenage crisis. ”
Isabella understood that completely. “I lost my mother when I was four,” she said quietly. “She had cancer. I barely remember her —just impressions, really. The smell of perfume. The sound of her laugh. My father tried his best after that, but being a single cop with a little girl was hard.”
“How did you lose him?” Christopher’s eyes held hers.
“He was killed in the line of duty,” Isabella said, the old pain still there but worn smooth by years. “I was eight. He was responding to a domestic violence call, and the situation went bad. He died trying to protect a woman and her children.”
“I’m sorry,” Christopher said, and she could hear that he meant it.
“My grandmother was there for me,” Isabella continued, finding comfort in sharing this with him.
“She raised me, taught me everything. How to cook, how to be strong, how to stand on my own two feet.” She smiled at the memories.
“When I came back to Anastasia Island pregnant and alone, she didn’t judge me.
She just opened her arms and her home and helped me with Maddy.
She was there for every midnight feeding, diaper change, and milestone. ”
“She sounds like an amazing woman.” Christopher’s eyes darkened with emotion.
“She was,” Isabella agreed. “I miss her every single day.”
They walked in comfortable silence for a while, finishing their chestnuts and watching the afternoon light play across the water.
Isabella felt something settle in her chest, a sense of rightness that had been missing from her life for so long.
Christopher understood her in ways she hadn’t expected, and being with him felt easy and natural and like coming home.
As they drove back toward Anastasia Island, Isabella’s phone buzzed in her purse. She dug it out, expecting a message from Jane about the girls.
Instead, Todd’s name appeared on the screen.
Her stomach dropped. She opened the message, and ice ran through her veins.
This is your last chance to help me, or you won’t like what I do next.
Christopher glanced over and noticed her expression. “What is it?”
“Todd,” Isabella managed, her voice tight.
Anger flooded through her, hot and cleansing. She was done being scared. Done being manipulated. Done letting this man have any power over her life.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard: Get lost, Todd. I already told you my attorney will bury you in court.
The response came almost immediately: Is that your final word?
Isabella typed back without hesitation: Yes. Get lost, Todd.
She watched the screen as the three dots appeared while Todd typed his response. The message that popped up sent a chill down her spine, unrelated to the car’s air conditioning.
You’re going to be sorry.
Isabella stared at the words, her earlier confidence evaporating in the face of that simple, direct threat. Christopher pulled into the inn’s parking lot and immediately saw her face.
“What did he say?” Christopher asked, his voice hard.
Isabella handed him the phone without a word, watching as he read through the exchange. His jaw clenched, and something dangerous flickered in his eyes.
“We need to show this to Charlie,” Christopher said firmly. “Right now. This is escalating, and we need to be prepared for whatever he’s planning.”
Isabella nodded, but her hands were shaking as she unbuckled her seatbelt. Todd’s final message echoed in her mind.
You’re going to be sorry.
And for the first time since this whole nightmare began, Isabella believed him.