Page 50 of Harbor

Yeah, that answer was not as easy or simple.

Renzo didn’t look like he had the right one to give his brother, either. “Because we have to, Diego. That’s why.”

It wasn’t a lie.

Looking more defeated than ever, Diego gave a loud sigh before climbing off the bed. Without needing to be asked or told, he started picking up his toys and bringing them over to shove in the duffle bags as well. Lucia thought the scene was a little heartbreaking, but right then, she didn’t have the time to dwell over it.

They had to move.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

Renzo’s hands froze as he shoved a pair of dirty jeans in the bag. “For what?”

Wasn’t it obvious?

She thought it was.

“If not for me being here, you wouldn’t have to up and go again, right? We’re going now because it’s my family coming, Ren. Or they’re looking for me—whatever. If they had me, then they wouldn’t—”

“Stop.”

Lucia stiffened as he quickly came closer to her. Close enough that all she could smell was his unique scent—a mixture of heady smoke, leather, and man. Close enough that all she could see was the golden flakes in his russet gaze, and the way his pupils dilated when his eyes locked on hers.

“Stop,” he murmured again, “because it doesn’t matter. Are you still where you want to be, Lucia?”

He didn’t tell her she was.

He asked.

“Yes,” she replied honestly.

Instantly.

Renzo dropped a kiss to her mouth before just as fast as he closed in on her, he went back to the bags and the work of packing them up. “That’s what counts, then. Nothing else matters. We’ll figure it out. Just like we got it figured out to get to here, Lucia. All right?”

“Yeah, Ren, okay.”

They were caught up in packing the bags when the one good cell phone they still had—and mostly Renzo used to take calls from Tuck—started to ring across the room where it was charging on the table. Renzo should have answered it, but Lucia was closer to the damn thing and maybe it was just the habit of a phone ringing that caused her to go and grab the call.

“Wait,” Renzo said, a hand lifting to her.

It was too late.

She’d already picked up the call.

“Hello?”

“Lucia, sweetheart, it’s time to come home.”

It was like ice had been dropped down her spine. It felt like it had been months since she last heard her father’s voice even if it had only been a couple of weeks. She had that same reaction to hearing her father’s voice that she did when it had been her brother that called—like she wanted to be happy, but it was quickly replaced by her bitterness and contempt that just wouldn’t leave her alone because of the things he had done.

“Daddy?” she whispered.

The silence on the other end of the call only lasted a moment before her father said, “John is coming to get you, Lucia. Please, make it easy on your brother. Know that I’m doing this because I love you, mia cara. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but—”

“Doing what, Daddy?”

“Lucia—”