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I stumble, catching myself before an elderly woman can reach out to me fully. “Sorry. I’m… sorry,” I tell her, bumping into someone at my back.
Squeezing my eyes tight, I sob, covering my mouth as I reach down blindly for my shoes. I quickly find my bearings and take off up the hill toward our lodges. I don’t stop running the entire way home, not until I can no longer hear the sounds of their songs or the memory of the day they took my baby.
The soles of my feet burn against the cool tiles when I reach the lodge, bloody spots marking the pale stone. I frown down at the mess I’ve made, and then go straight to the sink, wringing out a cloth. Dropping to my knees, I wipe the tiles, scrubbing, my eyes focused on each smear that disappears.
When I’m done, I look around the terrace, knowing I need to go and get my phone.
Call someone.
I find it in my bedroom.
Fran: Yes. Let me know a day, and I’ll work around you, or I can jump on a call before.
I sit down on the bed, my heart racing.
I try to ease my breathing, knowing I need a scrap of composure before I call her. I have a missed call and voicemail from Annie, and I press play on autopilot.
“Scarlet, it’s me. I’m just checking we’re good to have you back in on Wednesday. To say we’ve missed you is an understatement. I hope all’s well at home. Great news for Lance last week. I presume you sent him packing already.” She chuckles, and I frown. “The disappointment on that man’s face when I told him how well everything has healed and that he could manage at home on his own. You’d think it was a child having his favourite teddy bear taken from him. He really is looking good by the way; I’d totally understand it if you haven’t sent him anywhere but your bed.” She chuckles again. “Anyway, we can discuss this and everything I’ve missed over coffee on Wednesday. Travel safe, lady.”
“Scarlet.” I look up as my name rings out in the distance.
Lance lied to me?
“Scar!”
I stand and walk through the lodge, stopping in the middle of the lounge when Lance appears on the terrace. The second he spots me, his shoulders sag, and he starts toward me. “Scar. Fuck, I couldn’t get up the hill. There’s blood—”
“Did you lie to me about your leg?”
His face drops, steps faltering. “What?”
I take him in, his leg. All the days he’s been walking around here without his crutch. “Did you lie to me about your leg? Did Annie tell you that you could go home?”
He steps toward me, and I wrap my arms around myself, simply looking up at him.
I feel so cold.
So empty.
“It was a little white lie. Just one I knew we needed.”
“Why?”
He drops his brow to mine. “Because I knew you were close.”
I shake my head, not even trying to understand. “Close?”
He smooths a hand down my face. “I needed a little more time with you. Just to see.”
“To see what?”
“If you still love me like I think you do.” His green eyes deepen. “I couldn’t leave you when you were so close. We worked too hard—”
“I don’t.” I shake my head vehemently. “I don’t want to love you. I can’t.”
He steps back, his face transforming right before my eyes.
And with that step, a weight seems to lift from my chest.
