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“I am,” I reply, meeting her eyes. “But him leaving that way is…gutless.”
“Maybe he’s not one for goodbyes,” she quips, but I don’t buy it. “Besides, you said yourgoodbyeslast night.”
The clenching of her jaw reveals she’s speaking about what she saw. But if she thinks that “kiss” was filled with affection, she’s blind. If it was anything more, then Alek wouldn’t have gone, and she knows it. But her jealousy distorts the truth.
However, that’s her problem, not mine.
“Hey.” Saint’s hoarse voice has Zoey and me focusing our attention on the back door. He looks back and forth between us, sensing something is amiss.
“Coffee?” It seems to be the answer at the moment.
Saint nods, and I pass him my mug because I suddenly feel queasy.
Alek leaving the way he did, has really pissed me off. He’s the first one to talk about honor, so where was his when he decided to run away with his tail tucked between his legs?
“What’s the matter?” Saint grips my elbow, coaxing me to tell him what’s on my mind.
“Alek is gone,” I reply, unable to keep the bitterness from my tone. “He didn’t even have the balls to say goodbye.”
Saint shrugs, but there is no missing the tic under his eye. “It doesn’t matter. Saying goodbye doesn’t change the outcome of our decisions.”
Like hell it doesn’t. “You’re missing the point.”
This ending is like reading the last book in a trilogy, anticipating a big climactic twist only to be disappointed to uncover the hero and heroine go riding off into the sunset and live happily ever after. Where’s the fun in that?
“He owes you more,” I press, shaking my head. But there is something else, something I can’t quite put my finger on. “I can’t help but feel he got off scot-free.”
“Scot-free?” Zoey admonishes. “He’s willingly walking into his death. I hardly call thatscot-free.”
Saint arches a brow, wondering why she’s defending him. When she casts her eyes downward, he reads between the lines. He seems disappointed she submitted this one final time.
Slipping into a positive mindset, I try to see the good in him leaving this way. Good riddance to him. But when Larisa hobbles into the kitchen, I can’t help but think Alek will never get to her age because in just a few short hours, he’ll be dead. And that means we’ll have to live with this unresolved bullshit ending for the rest of our lives.
“A????, leave it,” Saint warns because he can read my dissatisfaction. But I can’t.
“Saint—”
“I said leave it.” Saint’s caution is filled with warning. “We are leaving here. Tonight. That’s all I care about.”
But he can’t be satisfied with this outcome. It feels like the bad guys have won. With that thought comes another, and I gulp down my guilt because that is, in part, because of me. I asked Saint not to fight, fearing he would get hurt, but us leaving suddenly feels reflective of what Alek has done.
The smart thing to do would be to get on that plane and not look back because this can finally be over with. But it feels like such a cop-out.
“Stop it.” Saint cups my cheek in his warm palm, leveling me with those eyes. “Let go of whatever you’re thinking. It’s done. Besides, what would we say? Thanks for the memories? Knowing what he’s walking into is satisfaction enough.”
Is it, though?
However, his stubborn stance on the topic reveals this isn’t up for discussion. I could press, but Saint’s mind is made up. This, it appears,isour ending.
Pavel enters with a green duffle bag thrown over his shoulder. When he sees us standing around, he pauses. “Everything all right?”
Saint’s sigh is heavy as I suspect he is waiting for me to argue that everything is far from all right. But I don’t. No matter how I feel, if Saint is happy with leaving this way, then I will bite my tongue.
“What’s in the bag?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Ah…just clothes.”
His hesitation raises red flags, and when Larisa stops hunting through the refrigerator to give him a confused look, I know he’s lying. But I bite my tongue yet again.
