Page 87 of Harbor

Not that John would understand.

He didn’t.

“I don’t care about anything you have to say,” Lucia said, shrugging. “So, why should I care to listen, John? When I asked you to stop … when I asked you to let me go … you didn’t listen to me. Give me one good reason why you think I should give a damn now, and listen to you.”

Because she couldn’t find one.

Not a single fucking reason to do what he asked.

He did that.

Not her.

“Because I am your brother—your blood. Family,” John said, like she needed a reminder. “And family loves one another. They protect one another. That’s what we’re doing here, Lucia. That’s why I came.”

She kept staring.

Blank.

Cold.

Empty.

Fucking dead.

Her reply came out barely above a whisper, but she knew he heard it. That’s what mattered most to her. “If that’s how you love me, then you can keep it. I don’t want it, John.”

“Lucia, you don’t mean that, now. You’re mad, and not thinking clearly, that’s all. Give it some time. We’ll come back to this.”

No, they wouldn’t.

And if they did, it would end the same way.

Better he learned it now.

“Choke on your fucking love for all I give a damn. How about that?”

He tried to talk again.

She just turned away.

She saw the clouds out the port window, but in her mind, she was looking at someone else. Or rather, looking for him.

Where was Renzo now?

Was he okay?

What about Diego?

Did Renzo know she was sorry?

God.

She was so fucking sorry for this.

• • •

Lucia was wrong. Her father hadn’t been standing there waiting for her when she stepped off the plane in New York. It was a brief moment of relief for her, she supposed. She still hadn’t been ready to face him, and she wasn’t sure how well she would have reacted if he was standing there waiting.