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Callan exits the car, and I follow suit, easing out of the car in discomfort. When I shut the door, I see my reflection. I still can’t believe it’s me. I look so different. Younger. Stalin and Isabella followed us in another car, and they both stand aside as Callan rounds the car and takes my elbow, helping me walk. I feel wooden as I walk beside him. He holds out a small bag for me.
The desire to turn into his arms and cry is too heavy to disguise. I look at him with hopeful eyes.
“Essentials, everything else will be there when you arrive,” he tells me. He sounds so vacant. Indifferent. My shoulders shudder, and I fight the whimper working its way up my throat.
This is it. Goodbye. I don't quite know what to say. Or how to act. Frowning, I move in and hug him, needing the contact.
“Thank you.” I catch sight of Isabella over his shoulder. When she catches me looking, she turns her gaze away and says something to Stalin, who smiles.
“Of course, angel.” Thick arms hold me close. I go stiff, but he sighs, and drops his head into my hair, inhaling deeply.
“I’m happy for you,” I add, my voice breaking. “She’s really beautiful,” I tell him, injecting warmth into my voice.
Callan’s breathing falters, and he pulls away slowly, looking at me in confusion.
“This is what this is about.” He shakes his head. “Why you pushed me away? Zara?” he demands, holding me at arm’s length.
“Callan, I…” Embarrassment burns through me. I have no right to hate him for loving someone who deserves his love.
“Isabella is my sister.” His confession spears my gut. Sister. Not girlfriend. I search his gaze. Then why is he sending me away? The torment in my eyes must say as much.
He cups my face. “God, you silly woman. You silly, beautiful woman. I love you.” He smiles sadly. “You gave me light when I had none, do you know that? I was barely functioning before you. You breathed that back into me, and I am so fucking grateful.”
“I don’t understand. Why?” Why is he sending me away? I can’t believe I have beaten myself up with this, and she is his sister. I never made the connection when he mentioned her before. He has always been so private. I assumed Isabella was the cause of his lack of emotion, the walls. Every rule he enforced was because, and for, her.
I was so wrapped up in the hurt caused by him using me and my connection to the Yovenko’s to find her that all reasonable logic fled. It never occurred to me that his desire to find Isabella was as simple as her being his sister. He never spoke of family. He said he was a lone wolf, like me. I didn't give him the chance to explain. I ran, and then I was taken. Why did he not confess when I came round, explain himself?
“That’s exactly why I’m sending you away. I love you enough to put you first. I won't forget our time, Zara. I love you, beautiful.”
“Callan.” I choke.Wait, no!
“Be safe.” He pecks my lips and steps back, nodding at someone over my shoulder. I’m dumbfounded. He’s letting me go. Sending me away.
A hand takes my wrist and tugs me towards the aeroplane steps. I look back, but Callan is walking with purpose to his car. His door slams loudly, and with a loud rev, he takes off, squealing out of the hanger. He can’t just go. “No!” I cry. I look at Stalin and Isabella, tormented by so many emotions. Why aren’t they helping?
Isabella cups her mouths as Stalin ushers her into the car.
Tony pulls me up the steps, and I shake my head, “No.”
“Zara, this is for the best.”
“He left me. I don't want to go.” I sob, pleading with Tony to do something. Stalin’s car starts, and then he is driving away. “Tony, please?” I grip his hand tightly.
“The only way we are leaving this airfield is on this plane. He left because he knows it’s what needs to be done. Callan has thought this through. If there was a way for you to stay—if he wanted you to stay—” Tony replies sympathetically, trailing off as my face crumples.
If Callan wanted me to stay, he would never have driven me here.
I choke through my tears as his words reverberate through me. Tony helps me onboard and nods to the Captain as he buckles me in my seat. I’m numb. He’s gone. Just like that. He left me. I love you, but goodbye.
How could he walk away?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Six Months later….
It’s been one hundred and eighty plus days of silence. The kind my soul had craved for years. I’ve never felt so light in all my life, so calm. Each morning is as easy as breathing in fresh air. Not only do I have copious amounts of time on my hands, I have anonymity, but I’m alone, and the only thing I have to keep me company is my heartache. Starting over was never going to be as simple as just turning up somewhere pretending to be someone new. I’ve conceded to such things and have made changes to help with daily life, small changes that have become second nature to me, as easy as smiling.
Another thing I’ve begun to do without feeling the strain of it around my lips.
