Page 43 of When the Smoke Clears

I brush off his feeble attempt at humor. “How do you expect me to feel, Gabe?”

“Relieved? Now that the truth’s out?”

My muscles are so rigid they ache. “I’m in the dark. She refuses to open up about anything.”

Gabe sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I keep telling her she needs to talk to you.”

“Why would she bother when she has you to confide in?”

He raises his hands defensively. “Wait a minute. I’m not the villain here. I didn’t volunteer to be stuck in the middle of this mess.”

I let out a heavy sigh. “I know. It’s just maddening that she won’t tell me anything.”

“It’s tough to release secrets held for so long,” Gabe acknowledges. “Give her some time.”

“And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

“Do what you promised. Protect her.”

“It’s more difficult when she’s holding onto secrets.”

Gabe nods slowly, a knowing look in his eyes. “She will come around. She’s scared and trying to protect herself. It’s all she knows.”

I snort. “When did you become an expert on the female psyche?”

“Oh, I know nothing about women. Trust me. But one thing I do know is that particular woman in there,” he gestures towards his bedroom, “wants nothing more than to fix things between the two of you.”

I exhale sharply. “She sure has a prickly way of showing it. I don’t get the sense she wants to fix anything. If there’s anything there to fix at all.”

“Well, from the way she looks at you and the fact that she agreed to stay with you, I’m pretty sure there is,” Gabe says.

A mix of doubt and lingering hope stirs in my chest. “We’ll see.”

Isla emerges abruptly, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder with deliberate resolve.

“You ready to go?”

“I’ll follow you,” she responds, her hand cutting through the air in a sweeping gesture.

“Thank you for everything, Gabe,” she says, her words trailing behind her as she strides out.

I rein in my irritation, standing by the front door with Gabe, as she climbs into her car, her presence a storm leaving in its wake.

“Be patient with her,” Gabe urges again. “She’s been through a lot.”

Every time Gabe lectures me on how to manage Isla, it feels like a knife plunging into my heart, twisting with each word.

“I’ve got it,” I snap. “And if she gets bored, you can come over and braid each other’s hair.”

Gabe scoffs. “You’re hopeless,” he calls back before disappearing into his apartment with the furry menace at his heels.

I hate myself right now because he’s right. If I don’t get my shit together, I will lose Isla again. And deep down, the bitter truth gnaws at me. I won’t be able to come back from it again.

And maybe that’s the point. Maybe some loves are meant to undo you, not redeem you.

CHAPTER 11

ISLA