Page 151 of When She Falls (The Fallen)
My fingers claw at the sheets, nearly tearing the fabric, and I press my face into his pillow, searching for his scent. It fills my lungs. Silent sobs wrack my chest, and my tears soak the pillowcase, but the cathartic relief is temporary. When I dry my eyes, everything is still the same.
I’m leaving the man I love today.
I pull myself together and get out of bed. I don’t want Ras to see me looking like a mess, so I take my time putting on my makeup and fixing up my hair. The bruise on my cheek is gone, but the one on my heart will be there forever.
Papà’s plane is supposed to come for me this morning, landing in a small private airfield a short drive from here. There isn’t much to pack. I pull the linen shirt and dresses I bought at the market off their hangers and stuff them into my tote. The necklace Ras got me from the jewelry shop in town hangs off a hook in the closet. I can’t bring myself to leave it, even though I know every time I’ll look at it, it’ll probably make me cry. I slip it around my neck, and the stone is cool against my skin.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m ready to go.
I find Ras in the kitchen, slumped on a stool by the island. He looks like he hasn’t slept.
My gaze brushes over his profile, noting the dark bags under his eyes and the disheveled hair. On the counter is a half-empty bottle of whiskey. Has he been drinking through the night? There’s no glass in front of him, but I spot one in the sink.
He hears me and shoots me a lifeless glance.
I don’t think he’s drunk.
I think he stopped drinking a while ago and spent the rest of the time thinking about what a bitch I am.
I hope that’s what he did. I hope he hates me. I deserve it. God, I deserve it.
Maybe when he returns to Damiano and smooths things over with him, he’ll forgive me. With time, he’ll realize what a mistake it would have been to throw his life away for someone like me. He’ll see me by Rafaele’s side and wonder how he ever could have loved me.
No matter how much it hurts now, I’m making the right choice. After I’m home and everything is fixed, Dem will take Ras back. He’ll forgive him. I’ll make sure of it.
I drop my bag on the ground, pick up the burner phone and start flipping through a local newspaper for a taxi number. I should have done this yesterday, but after our fight, I was too much of a coward to face him.
“I’ll take you,” he says, his voice no more than a harsh rasp. He stands up and drains a glass of water.
Grief batters my insides. “I can take a taxi.”
He doesn’t answer, just takes the keys, picks up my bag, and brushes past me.
We get into the car. The silence is suffocating, but the alternative—speaking—would be even worse. What is there to say? Words won’t make this better.
He must be thinking—I’ve given up so much for her but it’s still not enough to make this work. What more does she want from me? I have nothing else to give.
He doesn’t understand. When you love someone, you don’t want them to lose everything because of you. You don’t want to be the end. You want to be the beginning.
When we get to the edge of the airfield, my throat is in a vise. He parks the car and places his palms on his thighs, his gaze aimed forward at where the plane is waiting.
I want to kiss him, but even after the lies I’ve told him, I discover that my cruelty has a limit. I don’t move except to curl my fingers around the pendant.
“I’ll never forget this,” I whisper.
His Adam’s apple bobs. For a moment, it looks like he wants to say something, but then his jaw hardens, and I know he won’t.
I take one final breath, savoring the way his scent is laced through the air, and then I get out of the car.
* * *
Vince is waiting for me in a black sedan when I come out of the airport. I’m escorted by two of Papà’s guys. I’m fully aware they’re watching my every move. One of them opens the car door, and I slide into the back seat beside my brother.
Vince studies me for a long moment. “You okay?” he asks finally, his tone guarded.
I give him a terse nod. “I’m fine.” My anger at him pales in comparison to the other emotions swirling inside my chest. I don’t have the energy for a confrontation, but I’m determined not to let him see how much I’m hurting.
His gaze lingers on the side of my face before he says to the driver, “Take us home.”
