Page 77 of The Final Storm
There’s excitement and fear, and the knowledge of what we’re trying to do. I’ll help Gemma in any way that I can, but I don’t know if I feel any certain way about that. I’m not in tune with myself enough yet to distinguish the feelings and visions. I may never be.
“We’ll radio back. I promise,” I tell Gemma, ignoring her question. She nods while I pick my things back up, and we head to the boats. Padmoore has granted us the largest one available. It’ll still be a nightmare with five kids and four adults to live on for months, but if there’s no other option, we’ll manage.
“Oh, shit,” I hear Lori murmur under her breath. “Incoming.”
I don’t get the question out before I see her. Cecilia steps out onto the walkway in front of us, stopping the crowd with her presence.
“We don’t have time for this,” Lori grumbles, moving her gaze from Cecilia to Sam. She pushes her shoulders back and walks forward. “Come on boys,” she barks. They all trail after her, and I decide to do the same. She doesn’t want to see me, and I’ll pass her while I have the nerve.
“Wait,” I hear in her muffled voice as I walk by. I stop just past her, not turning around, my bags heavy in my arms. Sam’s steps sound behind me until he reaches us. His presence calms me, but my skin prickles with the three of us idling, waiting for whatever bomb she’s about to drop.
“Cecilia, we need to leave. It’s not good for anyone if we stay,” he tells her.
He’s greeted with silence, and I don’t know if I should walk forward or turn around. Sam was right, though. She didn’t attack me. Hearing her hushed voice and seeing how frail she looks, I know it wasn’t her.
That feeling in my gut Gemma loves to refer to lets me know she’s not capable of physically hurting me.
But there are other ways to destroy a person. There are other ways she could rip my soul from my body. BeLew scurries forward, blissfully unaware of the awkward moment and trying to catch up to Tank.
“I’ve been waiting here for a while. Before anyone else,” she whispers. With my back to her, it’s hard to make out her words, and I set my bags down and turn.
“I don’t know what you were waiting for,” Sam continues. “But we are leaving. And now.” His stern voice is barely over a whisper, as if speaking it too loud would knock her into the water.
Morgan wails as the boys step onto the boat. I see her wiggle in Tucker’s arms up ahead, and I turn to face Cecilia. She’s looking down at the ground, turning a piece of paper in her hands.
“Your baby is very sweet,” she mumbles. Her eyes don’t meet mine, and if they did, I might look away.
Iwantto hate her.
But there’s no hate left for her.
I saved all my hatred for those that hurt my family, and she doesn’t hold that power.
“Thank you.” I’m soft in my reply, trying to show her gratitude. I think she means what she says.
“I want you to have this,” she hands the paper to Sam. It curls at the edges where she’s wound it in her fingers. “It’s very important you read it.” Sam takes it from her and shoves it into his pocket.
“Okay. I spoke to the captain,” Sam tells her. “They’ll take care of you. You’re safe here.”
She looks up but turns away from Sam, looking straight at me. “You need to read that.” Her wide eyes plead with mine. They pull at my gut and hit me like a brick. I nod, knowing there’s something important written on those pages.
She moves to leave, and Sam twitches, unsure if he should reach for her or do something for their goodbye. She lifts a hand, signaling for him to leave her alone, and steps around him.
He picks up his bags, and I watch her back when she stops a few steps away. “You were right to leave that day. Back with the AOE,” she says. “I would have let them kill you. I was… confused back then.”
He doesn’t respond but lowers his head, the bags hanging by his side. “We didn’t prepare you for a mission like that. No one blames you.”
“I’m not that person anymore,” she says, unease in her voice. “I don’t know… who I am anymore.”
“I hope you find out,” Sam sighs, and steps around me to leave.
“Me too,” I say, and she turns a fraction, her profile all I can see. Her sadness radiates from her in a wave of emotion. I feel it seep into my heart and crawl through my limbs, making tears prick at my eyes.
“I couldn’t accept it was over. You may hate me, but wouldn’t you try to get him back?” she admits. “If you were me.”
“Yes, I would,” I rush out.
We aren’t fighting over a man. We’re agreeing on what we would do in an impossible situation. I’m not perfect, and had I not seen Dean for what he was, I don’t know who I would have become. I’m not a fool who thinks I’m better solely based on my decisions. I haven’t faced what she has, and life hasn’t tested me in that way.
