“No, it’s true. I have been meaning to tell you, I just—”
“Good night, Sabrina,” he interrupted curtly. This time he didn’t walk. He ran.
She gasped and let herself fall to the ground as she watched him run away from her house. And from her.
***
Jesus, her voice wouldn’t leave Isaac’s head.
I love you, and only you.
Talk about a punch in the gut.
He wanted to trust her. Longed to believe her more than anything in the world. But not minutes earlier, she had been in his brother’s arms. It made her declaration a bit harder to swallow.
Maybe he had behaved like an ass**le, bolting right after she declared her feelings, but to hear her say the words he’d been longing to hear for so long had been too raw. If she had told him she hated him, it would have hurt less. How could she cling to Elijah and turn and vow her love to him, and only him?
He didn’t know what to think. All he really knew was tonight had turned out to be one of the worst nights of his life. And it had been a long life. He needed to get some sleep.
Marie would be going home tomorrow. He’d use that as an excuse to go see Sabrina. And maybe he would talk to her.
But, truth be told, he dreaded what she had to say to him.
***
Sabrina couldn’t believe it. He’d left her. And maybe not for just the night, but forever. She didn’t cry, but instead watched the scene unfolding in a nonstop reel in her head. Her head had gotten stuck in replay mode, leaving no breaks in between.
Maybe he hadn’t believed her? That hurt less than the possibility of him not wanting her love anymore. A shadow fell over her face, and her heart leapt. He’d come back—he did still care.
No, no he didn’t. Not Isaac. Elijah had returned.
The despair clawed its way over her once more, but she attempted to hold it at bay. She wouldn’t break down. Not in front of him. She closed her eyes tight, shutting out his concerned face. She clutched her stomach, mentally steadying herself before she opened her eyes and met his gaze defiantly. She searched for her knife, before realizing that Isaac had run off with it.
Son-of-a-bitch.
“What are you doing here? Haven’t you done enough damage as it is? Haven’t we both?” she asked petulantly.
He squatted next to her and brushed her hair back. “You shouldn’t be out here alone at night. There are things much scarier than me out there.” He motioned toward the dark woods behind them by tilting his head. “Did Isaac leave you out here, alone? Or is he hiding somewhere, ready to pounce on me again?”
“Yes, he left. Big surprise, he didn’t exactly want to talk to me after we left you,” she said sarcastically. She latched onto the anger: it felt far better than desolation. “Thanks for that, by the way. He now thinks I betrayed him, just like her. I hate her.”
Rage crossed his expression before he looked away from her. Sabrina seemed to have found a sensitive area even where she was concerned. He didn’t like her insulting his Amelia. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and focused on her. “I’m sorry for the trouble I caused. But no matter how angry he felt, he should have seen you safely inside before he left. He does claim to love you, after all.”
She inhaled deeply at his words, and her tenuous hold on control slipped. Tears blurred her vision, and she bit her quivering lip as she choked on a sob.
“I’m not so sure he does anymore,” she whispered and burst into tears.
Elijah stared at her in horror, unsure of what to do. Or say.
“Oh, good God, don’t cry!” he exclaimed in horror. He reached out to pull her in his arms, but hesitated at the glare she shot him. He cursed and yanked her into his arms anyway.
She didn’t have the energy to fight him, so she let him smooth the damp hair off her face and kiss her temple. She knew she should protest at the familiarity, but didn’t bother. Who cared any more, anyway?
He carried her inside and went into the living room. It probably should have surprised her he knew where she slept, but it didn’t. Nothing surprised her anymore.
Chapter Thirteen
The next morning, floorboards creaked overhead and Sabrina groaned to herself. Marie woke up already? Did the sun even come up yet? The creaking continued toward the stairs as Marie began to descend them.
Oh, crap. Do I look like hell?
In a flurry of sudden activity, she ran her fingers through her hair to remove any twigs and rocks that would make it obvious she’d been outside last night. After removing all the debris she managed to get her fingers on, she lay back down on the couch to pull the blanket over her head.
Please think I’m sleeping. Please think I’m—
The scratchy wool blanket tickled her nose, and she scrunched it in an attempt to ease the itch. Marie ripped the covers off of her head, down to her hips. Forgetting to look freshly awoken, she glowered at her sister in resentment.
“You never were capable of faking sleep. Give it up, already,” she said smugly. She placed her hands on her hips.
“That was rude, even for you,” Sabrina grumbled.
“Well, I do have a plane to catch today….”
Sabrina sat upright and gasped. “Oh my God, already? What time, again?”
“We have to leave in an hour,” Marie responded in a slow voice.
“Crap. Let me go hop in the shower.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yup, I just forgot. I’ll get ready real fast so we can spend some time together before you go. All I need is five minutes.”
She sprinted up the wooden steps to the bathroom, and made quick work of brushing her teeth and showering. She threw her hair in a messy ponytail and dressed in a black shirt and black yoga pants. It suited her today. It matched her dark mood, she concluded, as she nodded in the mirror.
Miss Daisy Sunshine, I am.
She ran downstairs and accepted the coffee her sister held out to her. “Thanks,” she mumbled. “Do I look as tired as I feel?”
“Worse, probably. You had quite the nightmare, huh? I thought someone was killing you.”
She cringed and cursed herself for mentioning her lack of sleep. “Sorry, I have nightmares when I’m writing. I should have warned you. I tend to blend my book into real life. After you went to bed, I calmed down,” she lied. “I wrote down the scene, and went back to sleep.”
Marie raised an eyebrow and asked, “Is Isaac in your book? And who, exactly, is Elijah?”
“No, Isaac isn’t in it. But Elijah is a character in my book. In my dream, Elijah tried to kill Isaac, and it upset me. It’s all silly, in the light of day.” She plastered as much of a smile as she could manage on her face. Hopefully, she didn’t look demented. Now she’d have to add an Elijah to her book, or tell Marie she’d changed the name.