Page 175 of Stormbreaker

Slowly, she turns to look at me. “But I wasn’t answering your messages. I understand.”

I stand before her, my mouth opening and closing. I have so many things to say, but they sit in a tight knot lodged at the base of my spine, impossible to unravel.

“You should go,” she says.

“That’s it?” I ask. “We’re just finished forever?”

Finally, she meets my eyes. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Poet. You made a choice, and now we must all live with that.”

I’m about to tell her I’m sorry again, but I understand there’s no point. All the apologies in the world won’t change the facts.

My heart splinters into pieces as I look at her, maybe for the last time.

“Okay.” I’m turning to leave when she calls after me.

“How’s the cadet program?” she asks. “Is it everything you hoped it would be?”

I exhale a shaky breath. “Yeah, Mom. It’s amazing. I made it to second year. I had the third-fastest time in our final exam.”

She nods, a hint of pride straightening her shoulders. “Of course you did. I had no doubt about that.”

I hesitate again, sensing Rook standing by the door, waiting for me, witnessing this pain and ugliness between me and the one person in the world whose job it was to protect me.

Her gaze lands on my throat and the mask dangling from the chain around my neck. She reaches out and snags it between her fingers.

“Do you know why I got you this?” she says.

I shake my head. “I always assumed it was a metaphor. Something for me to hide behind.”

“No,” she says, her forehead crumpling. “It was a reminder to never be like me. I’m the one who hid, but you were always so brave. So determined. And look at you now. Your own person, making your own decisions.”

She sighs and releases her hold, her hand dropping at her side.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “If we’d listened to you, then maybe—”

She shakes her head, and I rush to throw my arms around her, hugging her tightly. She returns my embrace as we both start crying.

“I love you, Mom,” I say, pulling away. “Dad made it really hard, but I want you to know that I do love you.”

She reaches out and cups my cheek, closing her eyes as a tear slips from the corner. “You have no idea just how much I love you, my baby girl. I’ll regret every day we’re apart. I’m not sure if you believe that, but it’s true.”

“Maybe this isn’t goodbye forever,” I say. “Maybe just for now.”

“Maybe,” she says. “Now go. Please. I don’t want him to see you.”

Her gaze moves past me to Rook, and I can’t quite interpret what I see in her face. Perhaps a begrudging respect. Maybe a bit of relief.

“Take care of yourself,” she says to me. “And hold on to anyone willing to fight for you, my girl.”

My throat is too tight to speak, so I turn away.

Rook and I enter the elevator and ride down in silence, the glowing numbers reversing their course as we make the descent. We reach the bottom and slip out the service entrance and into the brightly lit streets.

It’s several minutes before Rook asks, “Are you okay?”

I exhale a shaky breath. It feels like I’ve left my body, floating through the clouds, frothing over the sky. “I don’t know.”

He accepts that answer because he understands it.