Chapter Twenty – Leo
Until this moment, the day had been perfect. But now, looking at the photo online and seeing Estelle’s face so clearly caught in the background, all the warmth that had filled the cottage only moments before was gone.
She’s seen it, his bear said, suddenly alert. Look at her face.
Leo glanced up from his phone to find Estelle frozen beside him, her eyes fixed on the screen, her expression stripped of every trace of the quiet happiness she’d brought home from the market. It wasn’t only fear he saw. It was the look of someone shutting herself down again, pulling away.
“Estelle?” he said softly.
She didn’t answer at once. Her gaze remained locked on the image. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and controlled.
“How many people follow this page?”
“I’m not sure,” Leo admitted, scrolling quickly to check. “About two thousand. Mostly locals, but...”
“But it’s public,” she finished for him. “Anyone could see it.”
Anyone, his bear echoed grimly. Including Margaret.
Leo’s stomach tightened as it sank in. This wasn’t some harmless community post. For Estelle, it was proof. A way to trace her. A sign that they had been here.
“I can ask them to take it down,” he said quickly. “I know Connie. She manages the page. She’d understand.”
Estelle shook her head once, sharply. “It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done.”
It does matter, his bear paced anxiously. To her, it matters.
“What can I do?” Leo asked, setting the phone down. That smiling market photo made his stomach turn.
Across the room, Adara laughed at her cartoons. The sight of her made his stomach twist. What if this brought trouble to their door?
You mean Margaret to their door, his bear moaned.
Leo lowered his voice. “Are you sure you don’t want me to ask them to take it down? Not many people have seen it. And you and Adara aren’t named.”
“The damage is already done,” Estelle said so quietly that he barely heard the words. But he heard the meaning clearly.
His bear went still. She’s going to run.
No, Leo said desperately. She’ll stay.
“It’s been a long day,” Estelle said and moved away from him.
The words landed hard.
She wants us to go, Leo said. She wants space.
Space, his bear said anxiously. What does that mean?
“Estelle,” Leo said carefully, “I understand why you’re scared. But please don’t make any decisions while you’re in this place. Let’s talk it through first.”
“There’s nothing to talk through.” Her tone stayed even, which somehow made it worse. “I’m tired, that’s all. It’s been a long day.”
“Don’t shut me out,” Leo pleaded. “I want to help you fix this.”
“I know you do,” she said. “And I love you for it.”
The words hit him so hard that he forgot to breathe. For one wild second, hope leaped in him before he saw the pain behind the words and knew this wasn’t reassurance at all.
She swallowed. “But this isn’t something you can simply fix with a toolbox from the shed.”
That caught him hard enough to leave him silent.
His bear shifted uneasily. She’s already halfway gone.
Leo studied her face. She was not frantic. Not falling apart. No, it was worse than that. She looked resolved.
“Tell me what you need,” he said at last. “What do you actually need from me right now?”
She was quiet for so long that he thought she might not answer.
“I need you to go,” she said finally. “I need time to think. To clear my head.”
She’s pushing us out, his bear bristled.
Every instinct in him rose up against it. Stay. Argue. Refuse. But if he forced himself on her now, he would only become one more thing asserting pressure on her.
“Okay,” he said, though it cost him to say it. “I’ll go.”
Relief flickered across her face. “Thank you.”
“But Estelle...” He took a step closer. “Please remember you’re not alone in this anymore. Whatever you decide, whatever you do next, I want to be part of it.”
She looked at him then, properly looked at him, and something in her expression made his heart lurch.
“I know,” she said softly.
It wasn’t a promise. It wasn’t even reassurance. Just an acknowledgment. Somehow, that frightened him more than if she’d refused him outright.
Leo stood, every instinct in him straining against it. He wanted to stay. To argue. To make her see that running wasn’t the only answer anymore. But he had promised her space, and he would not break that promise now.
“Adara,” he said gently, “I need to head home for a bit.”
The little girl looked up, disappointment plain on her face. “But I thought you were going to stay.”
“I know. I’ll see you soon.”
Will we? his bear asked bleakly. Or is this goodbye?
Leo shoved the thought aside and crouched to Adara’s level. “Keep taking good care of Fizz, okay?”
She nodded solemnly. “I will.”
As he straightened, his eyes met Estelle’s again. She stood with her arms wrapped around herself, her face composed in a way that only made him more afraid.
“Call me,” he said. “Whenever you’re ready. Day or night.”
“I will,” she replied, but there was no weight in it. Nothing he could hold on to.
Ask her, his bear paced hard inside him. Make her tell you she’s not going to disappear.
But Leo knew pressing now would only drive her farther away. He had to trust her. Trust fate.
At the door, he paused and turned back.
“Estelle,” he said quietly, “I meant what I said. You and Adara are not alone anymore.”
Her eyes shone suddenly, but she only nodded.
Then he stepped outside, and the door closed behind him.
This is wrong, his bear protested as they walked to the truck. We shouldn’t leave them.
I know, Leo replied, dread tightening his chest. But if I stay when she’s asking for space, I lose her anyway.
His bear made a low, unhappy sound. What if she runs? What if we come back tomorrow and they’re gone?
The thought hit so hard it nearly stopped him where he stood. But he forced himself to keep walking, to climb into the truck, to start the engine.
She wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye, he told his bear, trying to convince them both. Not after this. Not after everything.
But as he drove away, with the cottage growing smaller in his rearview mirror, Leo could not shake the dread sitting hard beneath his ribs.
Just hours ago, she had stood beside him at the market, sunlight in her hair, helping him arrange tomatoes as if she had every right to be there.
He had let himself believe that meant something solid.
Something lasting. Now he could not tell whether that had been the beginning of their life together, or the beginning of the end.
He had given her what she asked for.
Now he had to live with not knowing whether he had just given her room to stay or room to leave.