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“Where are you going?”
“That Simon Blake will tell you, won’t he? You can track me all you want, but I’ll keep running away from you, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“Isabelle, wait! I’ll make this right. Look back. Please look back on what we had. I’m begging you to forgive me.”
That makes her sob, her frame shrinking as if she’s going to disappear right in front of me. “Clayton, years from now, I don’t want today to be what I remember of you. And I don’t want you to remember me as the woman who robbed you of the family you’ve always dreamed of.”
“No, we’re none of that, Isabelle! I’ve made a mistake.”
“Goodbye, stranger in the dark.” She pivots, not even sparing me a look as I wilt into the ground I’m standing.
Donovan Fletcher has played me, and I gave into his lies.
How the hell am I going to get her back?
Do I even deserve her?
30
ISABELLE
We packed our bags and hit the road again the day after Clayton and his PI paid us a visit. I don’t think any of them followed us—at least not Clayton because I swear, I’d be able to smell him if he was close.
No one has ever torn me to pieces like he did. He might’ve branded me a boyfriend killer. I could take it. But that vindictive look when he was accusing me of terminating my unborn baby? It was more than a bitter pill to swallow. It was like gulping a handful of hot sand. And to know that Don had won at that moment, it felt like the sand was going straight into my heart, clogging and burning every ventricle.
Yet, above all that, I had forgiven him even before the word ‘sorry’ came out of his mouth. It hurt to see his anguished face agonizing over his own words. I’m sure that hurt me because I loved him.
In fact, I still love him.
What I have with him can’t just be erased by a few painful events—especially ones that were orchestrated by a despicable snake. Regardless, I’ve strayed too far from him. I don’t know if there’s a way back.
Raffi and I have stayed in Anchorage for a couple of weeks. I decided that what my son needed wasn’t another excursion or animal encounter but to have interactions with other kids and stay in a place that somehow resembles a city. So I signed him up with the local YMCA basketball club.
“Yeah, Raffi!” his coach cheers as the boy manages to steal the ball from his opponent.
Most of his teammates are twelve, but Raffi doesn’t seem to have any problem fitting in.
“Pass it, pass it!” the coach instructs. “Good job!”
I clap as Raffi completes an assist, resulting in another two-pointer. Even I would struggle to move like that. I can only imagine what Clayton would say if he were here.
I’ve tried to push the thought of him from my mind, but that name will never be erased. He’s a part of me who will never be a part of my life. Yet, I’m clinging to him, like I’m clinging to the small paper bag in my hand, creasing it.
Raffi joins me after the team's debrief. That is some serious sweat. Exactly what the boy needed to release his pent-up energy.
“Whoa, that was a close game,” Raffi pants.
“You did well.” I pass him a towel.
He wipes his face and then takes in his energy drink. “Hey, Mom. Did you buy me the deodorant?”
“Yeah. Do you need it now?”
Raffi tosses me a ‘D’uh!’ look.
I smirk. “It’s only me for the rest of the afternoon. Do you really need it?”
“Mom, come on.”
