process what she’d said. “What?” I asked, hearing her, knowing what she said, but not comprehending it.
“I’m moving. My dad got a promotion, and relocating is part of it.” She brushed away a tear that fell from her eye.
“Moving?” I asked, my voice thick, tight.
She nodded.
I shook my head. “When?”
She was silent for long moments, and I felt myself become tighter, knowing what she was going to say would be fucking hell.
“Less than two weeks.”
I felt the breath leave me. I couldn’t do anything but stand there and stare at her, watching as the tears slid down her cheeks.
“Two fucking weeks?” I gritted those words out. “Are you serious?”
She nodded.
Reaching up, because I couldn’t stand to see her crying, to see her hurt, I cupped her cheek and brushed two tears away with my thumb.
“How the hell can anyone move in two weeks?” I meant to say those words to myself, but they spilled forth. “Fuck,” I said and squeezed my eyes shut.
We hadn’t been apart for more than a day since we were ten.
I fucking loved her.
I love you.
She cupped my hand, neither of us speaking or moving for long moments. Finally, she sighed and smiled, but it was sad.
“The position my dad is taking needs to be filled right away.” Her voice was soft. “And my mom doesn’t want to wait a year until I’m done with school to move out there. She wants to be with my dad.”
Yeah, I got that, understood it even, but hell, what about us?
It was then, as those words sunk in, that I felt rage fill me. I felt this bone-deep anger that took my breath away, that stole every single ounce of sanity. I wanted to avenge her even if there wasn’t a monster in front of her, wasn’t someone that had stolen an ounce of her flesh. I wanted to be the one to hold her close and keep her by me, making sure she couldn’t be hurt, not by her family ... not by a distance that was the enemy.
I wanted to tell her right then that everything would be okay, that I’d never walk away from her. I’d follow her to the end of the fucking world if I had to.
She was it for me, and tonight I’d tell her how I felt.
Tonight, I’d take her somewhere private, where it was just us, and tell her my deepest secret.
Tonight I’d tell Isabel that I loved her, and nothing would keep us apart.
Chapter Three
Isabel
“H ave you told Quinn?” my father asked from across the dinner table.
“Yeah,” I replied in a dead tone.
“Honey, eat,” my mother said.
I stared at my plate, pushing my food around with my fork. They actually expected me to eat, to have an appetite after the shit they threw at me this morning?
“I’m not hungry.” I set my fork down and looked at the clock. I was meeting Quinn in twenty minutes. He wanted us to hang out, to spend time together, and really talk about all of this. At least the latter was what I assumed.
“It’s for one year, Isabel,” my dad said, sounding frustrated. I didn’t care if he was annoyed. “Once you graduate, if you want to go to school here, or wherever Quinn is, that’s an option.”
“A year is a long time,” I said, my voice monotone, and I knew my expression reflected that. “Let’s not forget you’re uprooting me during my senior year, or that we have to move across the country.” I straightened, not about to cry at the dinner table. “It’s not like I’m moving to the next city over. It’s not like I can tell Quinn to go with me.”
My dad exhaled and grabbed his napkin to wipe his mouth. When he set it down, he looked me right in the eyes. “I know you and Quinn are close. And I know this will be a hard adjustment. But it’s for one year, honey, and I can’t pass up this promotion.” He said the last part a little softer. “I’ve been working toward this for the last ten years.”
I wanted to support my dad, knew he deserved this, but it was hard to feel any kind of happiness toward anyone when I was hurting so much.
“I’m sorry. I’m
“I’m moving. My dad got a promotion, and relocating is part of it.” She brushed away a tear that fell from her eye.
“Moving?” I asked, my voice thick, tight.
She nodded.
I shook my head. “When?”
She was silent for long moments, and I felt myself become tighter, knowing what she was going to say would be fucking hell.
“Less than two weeks.”
I felt the breath leave me. I couldn’t do anything but stand there and stare at her, watching as the tears slid down her cheeks.
“Two fucking weeks?” I gritted those words out. “Are you serious?”
She nodded.
Reaching up, because I couldn’t stand to see her crying, to see her hurt, I cupped her cheek and brushed two tears away with my thumb.
“How the hell can anyone move in two weeks?” I meant to say those words to myself, but they spilled forth. “Fuck,” I said and squeezed my eyes shut.
We hadn’t been apart for more than a day since we were ten.
I fucking loved her.
I love you.
She cupped my hand, neither of us speaking or moving for long moments. Finally, she sighed and smiled, but it was sad.
“The position my dad is taking needs to be filled right away.” Her voice was soft. “And my mom doesn’t want to wait a year until I’m done with school to move out there. She wants to be with my dad.”
Yeah, I got that, understood it even, but hell, what about us?
It was then, as those words sunk in, that I felt rage fill me. I felt this bone-deep anger that took my breath away, that stole every single ounce of sanity. I wanted to avenge her even if there wasn’t a monster in front of her, wasn’t someone that had stolen an ounce of her flesh. I wanted to be the one to hold her close and keep her by me, making sure she couldn’t be hurt, not by her family ... not by a distance that was the enemy.
I wanted to tell her right then that everything would be okay, that I’d never walk away from her. I’d follow her to the end of the fucking world if I had to.
She was it for me, and tonight I’d tell her how I felt.
Tonight, I’d take her somewhere private, where it was just us, and tell her my deepest secret.
Tonight I’d tell Isabel that I loved her, and nothing would keep us apart.
Chapter Three
Isabel
“H ave you told Quinn?” my father asked from across the dinner table.
“Yeah,” I replied in a dead tone.
“Honey, eat,” my mother said.
I stared at my plate, pushing my food around with my fork. They actually expected me to eat, to have an appetite after the shit they threw at me this morning?
“I’m not hungry.” I set my fork down and looked at the clock. I was meeting Quinn in twenty minutes. He wanted us to hang out, to spend time together, and really talk about all of this. At least the latter was what I assumed.
“It’s for one year, Isabel,” my dad said, sounding frustrated. I didn’t care if he was annoyed. “Once you graduate, if you want to go to school here, or wherever Quinn is, that’s an option.”
“A year is a long time,” I said, my voice monotone, and I knew my expression reflected that. “Let’s not forget you’re uprooting me during my senior year, or that we have to move across the country.” I straightened, not about to cry at the dinner table. “It’s not like I’m moving to the next city over. It’s not like I can tell Quinn to go with me.”
My dad exhaled and grabbed his napkin to wipe his mouth. When he set it down, he looked me right in the eyes. “I know you and Quinn are close. And I know this will be a hard adjustment. But it’s for one year, honey, and I can’t pass up this promotion.” He said the last part a little softer. “I’ve been working toward this for the last ten years.”
I wanted to support my dad, knew he deserved this, but it was hard to feel any kind of happiness toward anyone when I was hurting so much.
“I’m sorry. I’m
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