“Illyin, can you stop swearing and ranting and just listen for as second?” I ask in desperation.
“You want me to listen? But you didn’t want to listen to me. I sent men to fetch you. I sent for you, and you pushed me away,” he snaps.
“No, I pushed yourmessengersaway and told them to tell you to come and speak to meyourself!” I snap.
He scoffs. “You need to come home, Izabel. I’ve had enough of this bullshit.”
“I’m not coming home, Ill. Please can you understand that I am making a choice for my own life? I want to be with Anton, and I want you to talk to him to come to a truce.”
“Not a fucking chance,” he snarls.
“Why can’t you do this for me? Why can’t you understand how badly I want this? How I am happy with everything in my life right now except for how you’re handling all of this?”
“You’re delusional. Not happy. And once I get you away from him, you’ll start thinking clearly and see that you’ve been brainwashed.”
“Illyin, it’s not like that!”
But it’s no good. No matter what I say, he refuses to listen. He refuses to budge from his stubborn, annoying, insistent ideas. I can’t get through to him.
When I finally give up and end the call, there are tears in my eyes all over again.
Confused, exhausted, worried about Anton’s life if I choose to stay with him and worried about my brother who refuses to see past his own arrogance, I curl up on the hotel bed and bury my face in the pillow, soaking it with my tears.
The phone call that made me run away from Anton wasn’t at all what I thought it was. He was pushed by Ilyin’s cruel words. And Illyin sounds like he is never going to stop coming after me to drag me back home.
I love them both. And I don’t know how to fix this.
My tears keep falling, and while I don’t mean to, I eventually cry myself to sleep, exhausted from not sleeping at all last night and emotionally drained after speaking to my brother.
Chapter 23 - Anton
As soon as I wake up, I reach for her. Last night I fell asleep so quickly I didn’t even say goodnight. I dreamed horrible things about her brother dragging her away, and no matter how fast I ran, I couldn’t catch up with them.
“Pixie?” I murmur, reaching further across the sheets, surprised when my hand doesn’t find the warmth of her skin, so I can pull her against me.
My eyes shoot open when I realize the sheets aren’t even warm.
What time is it?
Did I oversleep?
We usually wake up around the same time.
“Izabel?” I call her name, sitting up in bed, and grab my phone to squint at the time.
Eight in the morning.
Fuck.I really did sleep late.
Tossing the blankets aside, I roll out of bed, flexing my shoulders and my back as I walk towards the bathroom.
Cold water splashed onto my face wakes me up a little more. I guess I was exhausted after all the drama from yesterday. It’s been constant stress about her brother. Constant stress that I need to find a way to solve.
“Izabel?” I call out as I walk down the stairs. “Where are you, Pixie?”
But there is no reply.
My skin begins to prickle uncomfortably. It isn’t like her to leave the house without telling me. She would have woken me up. Unless she tried, and I was sleeping too deeply?
