Page 44 of Vicious Intentions
“I don’t have any friends,” I say at last. “And the one I do have wouldn’t be welcomed in my home. Not anymore.”
But he’s here. Raffaele is here now. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t go to him? A crappy one, that’s what kind. One that doesn’t deserve such a good friend in her life.
“Can I ask you a favor, Izzie?” I ask, before she has time to process what I just admitted to. “Would you mind covering for me for just a little bit? I think I’d like to take a walk to clear my head,” I lie while gesturing toward the woods with my chin.
“I don’t know, Anna. It’s going to get dark pretty soon. I wouldn’t want you to get lost in the woods in the dark.”
“Don’t worry. I know these woods like the back of my hand. I won’t get lost,” I lie again, though this time my voice wavers just slightly.
It’s true that I’ve spent enough time playing in these woods as a child to know every inch of them by heart. But that was always during the day, with the sun overhead and the twins or Stella at my side. I’m not entirely confident I’ll find my way as easily in the dark.
It doesn’t matter. I’ve made up my mind.
If Raffaele managed to find a way to see me, against all odds, then I’ll manage to find my way back home afterward.
When I see Isobel’s unconvinced expression, I glance back toward the mansion. Muffled laughter and music drift through the closed window doors as the guests continue enjoying themselves. I gesture toward the house as I make my final point.
“Besides,” I say quietly, “everyone seems to be having a great time. No one will miss me.”
“That’s not true. Marcello is searching the house as we speak, looking for you.”
“Of course he is.” My shoulders slump despite myself.
I should have expected it. Ever since what I now have coined asthe event,my siblings have been more hyperaware of my comings and goings. I can never fully disappear, not even for a moment. Not without one of them noticing.
“Marcello is excited about giving you his present,” she quickly adds, as if that might lighten my spirits. “I don’t want to spoil the surprise, but I think you’ll like it. No, I’m positive you’ll love it.”
“I’m sure I will,” I reply, though the words feel hollow even to my own ears.
Isobel exhales sharply, her jaw tightening as she looks at me.
“How well do you know these woods again?”
“So well, Izzie.” I smile, the first genuine one I’ve felt like sporting all evening. “I promise I won’t take long. Consider it your birthday present to me. Please.”
“Hmm,” she murmurs, glancing toward the woods and then back at me. “Promise me you’ll be safe?”
“Promise,” I say, the word coming easier than anything else has tonight.
“Okay then. I’ll keep your brother busy for half an hour.” Relief rushes through me.
“Thank you, Izzie.” I step forward and wrap my arms around her.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” she replies, returning the embrace.
I hold on to her a second longer, lowering my voice. “Also, thank you for giving Marcello a chance. My brother deserves someone who sees how wonderful he truly is. I’m so thankful he found you.” She doesn’t say anything right away, but when I pull back, her expression has softened. “Marcello doesn’t think he is, but he is a good man—the best man I know. Make him happy, Izzie. Help him find his way. He’s been lost for long enough.”
With that, I turn away before emotion can betray me and set my sights on the woods. I don’t look back as I walk toward them. If I do, I know I’ll lose my nerve.
I take a deep breath and step into the woods, silently hoping the sun will linger in the sky just a little longer before it finally gives way to night.
I don’t think I’ll get lost—not truly—but if my family discovers I left the mansion just to wander into the woods alone, they’ll worry. They always do. As if I’m something fragile, like glass, liable to shatter if the world presses too hard.
I hate that they see me this way. Weak. Breakable. But most of all, I hate that sometimes I see myself in that light too. The only one who doesn’t see me like that is Raffaele. To him, I’m not delicate or in need of saving. I’m just a girl. A normal teenage girl. And he’s my friend.
“Rafe,” I whisper into the wind. “Are you there?” I ask again, but it feels like the trees swallow my voice. I call his name again, but there’s no reply.
Maybe he changed his mind. Perhaps he never came.
