Feathers and Thorne Series Books 1 - 3: The Complete Collection

Chapter Thirteen

Isabella

I let the covers fall to my waist and shove my hair out of my eyes. “What do you mean Carter is gone?”

Sam averts her gaze and shifts from one foot to the other. “He left a few hours after you two had your fight. I wanted to come and tell you, but you were fast asleep. And I didn’t want to wake you…”

Except I kind of wish she had. Because I would’ve tried to stop Carter from leaving.

A part of me thinks I would’ve gotten down on my hands and knees and begged him to stay, but the other part of me knows it wouldn’t have worked.

When Carter sets his mind to something, he doesn’t back down. Come hell or high water. It’s one of the things I love and hate most about him.

When I throw the covers off and stand up, Sam hurries to my side. “Did he say where he was going?”

Sam shakes her head and eyes me warily. “No, but it doesn’t matter anyway. You can’t go after him.”

I step into the adjoining bathroom, pausing to retrieve a pair of jeans from on top of the dresser. After pulling them on, I stuff my feet into a pair of sneakers and come back out. Then I dart back into the bathroom and snatch a hairband off the sink. I pull my hair up into a high ponytail and give Sam a determined look.

I can already tell she’s not going to let me go without a fight. Since showing up here a day ago, Sam has been hovering and checking in at regular intervals.

Although a part of me appreciates how caring and attentive she’s being, she’s acting too much like Carter for me to be comfortable. And I escaped here to forget about him.

Not have him thrown in my face at every turn. Or at least that’s what I believed.

Now that I know Carter isn’t across the lawn at Anita’s, I feel untethered and unmoored. Like I’ll float off into the stratosphere without him.

Sam doesn’t say anything as I brush past her and walk into the living room, where Tristan is sitting on the couch with his feet propped on the table and a mug of coffee in his hands. As soon as he sees me, he reaches for the remote and powers the TV off. Slowly, he sets down his mug and stands up so he’s facing me directly.

Tristan won’t meet my gaze, so I immediately know it’s his idea.

I fold my arms over my chest. “I thought you and I worked on this, Tristan.”

Tristan glances over at Sam, who gives him a confused shrug. “What are you talking about?”

“I know you and I got off on the wrong foot, but being stuck in that mansion together… I thought we understood each other better now.”

Tristan shoves both hands into his pockets and glances away. “He’s my cousin, Isabella. It doesn’t matter whether we get along or not. He’s family and the head of the family. I owe him my loyalty.”

“Even if he’s doing something stupid?”

“Especially then,” Tristan replies evenly. “Contrary to what you might think, I don’t just let Carter do stupid shit and stand by and do nothing. Whenever he’s about to charge into something, I tell him what he doesn’t want to hear or admit, consequences be damned.”

I search Tristan’s face, a low fluttering beginning in the center of my stomach. “And what did you tell him this time?”

Tristan finally lifts his gaze to mine and winces. “I told him that he should talk to you, that he shouldn’t just leave without saying goodbye, but he wouldn’t listen.”

I swallow and take a step in Tristan’s direction. “Where is he, Tristan?”

Tristan clears his throat. “You know I can’t tell you. If he wanted you to know, he would’ve told you himself.”

I throw my hands up in the air and take a step back. “He’s not thinking clearly, Tristan. Neither am I. You need to tell me where he is.”

Because Carter and I can’t be apart. We’ve gone through too much together for him to disappear like this. Not when the baby and I need him.

Tristan presses his lips together and doesn’t respond. I swing my gaze over to Sam, but she’s looking everywhere but at me directly. After a long and tense pause, I reach for the keys on the kitchen counter and dart outside. I’m halfway to the car when Tristan catches up to me and blocks the path. Every time I try to dart past him, he gets in my way.

I huff and swat a lock of hair out of my eyes. “Get out of my way.”

“No.”

I blow out a breath. “If you’re not going to take me to him, I’ll find Carter myself.”

“And how are you going to do that? Are you going to drive around the suburbs calling out for him? Come on, Isabella. You’re a smart woman. You know that’s not going to work.”

I clench my free hand into a fist. “I don’t give a shit what you think right now, Tristan. Carter is supposed to be here with me and the baby. He shouldn’t have left.”

And if I have to drive around aimlessly to find him, so be it. We’re not going to get past our issues if he isn’t here.

A small voice in the back of my head insists that I’m the one who drove Carter away, but I shove it all down. Tristan continues to stand there, so I push past him and try to unlock Sam’s car, but my hands are trembling. Tristan takes the keys out of my hand and nudges me in the direction of the house. Realizing that I can’t fight him on this, I follow him up the driveway. Inches away from the door, I dart back in the direction of the car, my lungs bursting with effort.

I reach out to touch the door when Tristan yanks me back. “Isabella, stop. You’re not helping anyone, least of all yourself. Think of the baby.”

I kick and writhe and buck, but Tristan’s grip won’t falter.

If anything, he holds me tighter as we fall backward onto the damp grass. I roll away from Tristan, but he intercepts me without missing a beat. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash of movement, and Sam is running out of Anita’s house with Anita herself in tow. The two of them are waving their hands and calling out to me, but I can’t hear them.

I can barely hear anything past the pounding in my heart.

All I can think about is the sneer on Carter’s face as he stood across from me. In spite of my better judgment, I find myself replaying his words over and over till the poison seeps through the rest of me, leaving me with a tightness in my chest. Still, I push past it and try to get to the car, using every ounce of energy at my disposal.

I don’t stop until Sam’s arms close around me, and she crushes me to her. She is whispering in my ear, but I still won’t stop fighting. I can’t.

Because I’m afraid that if I do, I’ll have to accept that Carter really is gone.

How can he leave me behind?

I break free of Sam’s grasp, but instead of jumping into the car and driving off, my legs give out. I sink onto the grass and bury my face in my hands. Before I know it, my whole body is shaking, convulsing soundlessly as I wrap my arms around myself. Sam touches my shoulder, and her quiet voice washes over me, but it does nothing to soothe the ache.

Or the burn in the center of my stomach.

Anita kneels down next to me and takes me into her arms. I cling to her as wave after wave of emotion washes over me. Suddenly, I’m crying, loud, angry sobs that reverberate inside my head. Another tremor rips through me as I stumble out of Anita’s grasp and toward a row of bushes. When I sink to my knees on the cold, wet grass, I lower my head and retch, but there’s nothing in my stomach.

My eyes are burning, and tears are still running steadily down my face as I dry heave, spittle forming on the sides of my mouth. My chest feels tight as Sam stands next to me and rubs my back.

When I’m done, I use the back of my hand to wipe my mouth. Anita and Sam help me to my feet, with Tristan following close behind. In the doorway to Anita’s house, I sway, and my hand darts out to grip Sam’s shoulder. I miss and teeter forward. Before I fall, face first, onto the ground, a pair of arms encircle my waist, and Tristan’s unfamiliar scent washes over me.

He carries me across the living room and into the guest room at the end of the hall.

Carefully, he sets me down on the mattress while Sam and Anita stand on either side of the bed. With a frown, Tristan strides out of the room, and the front door bangs shut behind him. I flinch and shrink against the mattress. Anita adjusts the covers around me, and Sam climbs onto the bed. After another quick look in my direction, Anita leaves the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

I curl onto my side and stare at the blue-colored wall opposite me. “He left me.”

Sam sighs. “He didn’t leave you, Isabella. I know it’s hard to accept that right now, but he’s trying to give you some space.”

A headache starts in the back of my skull. “What about what I want?”

The bed dips and creaks as Sam shifts closer. She touches a hand to the back of my shoulders and exhales. “He’s going to be back, Isabella. I know he is.”

I flip onto my other side so I’m looking at Sam directly.

I want to believe her, but I don’t know if I can. She doesn’t know Carter the same way I do, and the one thing I could count on was that he’d always be there, no matter how ugly things got.

But this time is different.

I’ve had the rug ripped out from under me, and instead of finding Carter there to catch me, he’s turned into a ghost. A part of me knows it’s my fault.

“I pushed him too hard,” I murmur, my voice catching towards the end. “I put too much on his plate, and I shouldn’t have done that. First with the baby and then expecting him to be able to change overnight…”

Sam frowns. “Isabella, you didn’t do anything wrong. These are all things Carter has to do anyway because of the baby.”

“Yeah, but I should’ve eased him into it.” I sniff and squeeze my eyes shut. “What kind of wife am I going to be if I can’t be patient and supportive? What kind of mother am I going to be?”

“Isabella, Carter and that baby are lucky to have you,” Sam says, her eyes blazing with emotion. “You just caught Carter by surprise, that’s all. As someone who likes to have control, he just needs to learn how to handle not having it.”

I let my arms fall to my sides, and I don’t react.

“Isabella?”

“I just want to be alone,” I whisper as a single tear slides down my cheeks. “Go away.”

“But—”

“Please.” I turn away from Sam and stare up at the ceiling. “It has nothing to do with you. I just want to be by myself right now.”

Silence stretches between us.

For a long while, Sam doesn’t do anything. Then she stands up and tiptoes to the door. I feel the weight of her gaze on me, but I don’t look at her.

I can’t.

Dealing with anyone right now is too exhausting and painful.

So I continue to lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and willing the time away. Every time I hear a pair of footsteps, my heart misses a beat, thinking Carter is back. Each time, without fail, I’m disappointed that it’s not his voice I hear or his touch I feel. I drift in and out of consciousness for the rest of the day.

Sometime later, when the sun is setting below the horizon, bathing the world outside my window, the door creaks open. Anita comes in with a bowl of tomato soup and some bread, the appetizing smells making my stomach growl. Reluctantly, I sit up straighter and take a few sips, ignoring the waves of nausea rising within me. With a frown, Anita tears off a piece of bread and holds it up to my face. I shake my head, the bile on the tip of my tongue.

“I know this is tough, but you need to eat,” Anita insists with the same encouraging smile. “You have to keep your strength up for, if not for yourself or Carter, then do it for the baby.”

I glance down at my stomach, and a jolt of sadness courses through me. “This baby is better off without me.”

Anita places a hand on mine. “Don’t say that. That baby is the luckiest baby in the world.”

I look up at Anita, a strong wave of exhaustion taking over. She spoon-feeds me until I push her hand away and twist onto my side. Then she sighs and rises to her feet. In spite of my protests, she leaves the tray on the nightstand next to me. I stare at it for so long that my eyes start to burn. With a sigh, I squeeze my eyes shut and try to fall asleep.

A short while later, Sam creeps into the room and places a hand on my forehead.

I hold myself still as she mutters to herself.

I crack one eye open, see Sam retrieve the tray, and breathe a sigh of relief. She carries it out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar and allowing some of the hallway light to spill in. I twist so I’m looking at the door, and then I fix my gaze on the tiny particles of light casting shadows on the hardwood floors.

Peace continues to elude me no matter how much I toss and turn or beg for relief. My pleas and prayers fall on deaf ears.

When morning comes, I’m still awake, and the niggling in the back of my skull has grown into a full-blown headache. Sam comes in to check on me and throws the curtains open. I hiss and throw an arm over my head. My vision dances in and out of focus as she drifts closer and her mouth parts. Still, I can’t make out anything she’s saying.

It’s like I’m standing behind a wall of glass. All of Sam and Anita’s efforts to make me get up and shower are in vain.

I drift off again, consumed by my grief and my loneliness. Sometime later, I stir awake and feel Sam’s hand on my arm. She offers me an apologetic look and looks over at a man with thinning hair, large glasses, and a stethoscope draped around his neck. He sets his briefcase down and snaps on a pair of gloves. Then, he holds my arm and presses two fingers to my wrist. A furrow appears between his brows as he and Sam lift me up, and he presses a stethoscope to my back. I can barely feel the cold metal through the thin fabric of my shirt.

When he’s done, I slump back against the mattress and stare at him through listless eyes.

“Her pulse is weaker than I’d like it to be.” He rummages through the briefcase and pulls out a pressure cuff. When it’s ready, he presses the stethoscope to my chest and listens intently. Wordlessly, Sam holds my hand the entire time and refuses to leave my side.

Then, he winds the stethoscope around his neck and takes out a pen. He scribbles a few things down and rips out a note to hand to Sam.

Reluctantly, she leaves my side and holds the paper as if it’s made of glass. “What about the baby?”

“I’ve got the portable sonogram here with me,” he replies without missing a beat. “I’m going to need someone to run down to the nearest pharmacy and pick those things up. I want to take a blood sample.”

Sam gives him a curt nod and hurries out of the room.

She returns as he’s perched on the side of the bed, two cold and gnarled fingers pressed to my wrist. His dark eyes regard me intently. With a frown, the doctor takes out a penlight and shines it directly into my eyes. I flinch and try to get away from him. Anita emerges, and she and Sam stand on either side of me, doing their best to keep me in place.

“I’m sorry, Isabella,” Sam whispers, her voice trailing off towards the end. “You need help, and we can’t leave you like this anymore.”

I glance between the two of them, my lips dry and my tongue heavy.

Anita leaves the room when the doorbell rings and returns with a plastic bag full of syringes and empty vials. Without looking at me, she hands the bag over to the doctor who rips the syringe pack open. He snaps on a pair of bright blue latex gloves and then flicks the tip of the syringe. When Anita stands opposite Sam, the two of them hold down my arm, and I grow absolutely still.

I feel the pinch before I see it, and my entire body seizes.

I glance down and see the syringe full of bright red blood, and it makes me woozy. With a hiss, I squeeze my eyes shut. A long moment later, the syringe leaves my arm, and I feel the doctor press a piece of cotton there. He lifts my arm up so the cotton is wedged against my upper arm and the crook of my elbow.

“I’ll fast-track these results. In the meantime, let’s check on the baby.”

Together, Anita and Sam release their vice-like grip, and my eyes fly open. I fix my gaze on the doctor, who sets up his portable sonogram and takes out a tube of gel. After squeezing it onto my stomach, the cool liquid cold against my flushed skin, he takes out another instrument. For a long moment, no one says anything, and we all keep our attention on the monitor.

Tears prick the back of my eyes when nothing happens. My breath catches in my throat as Sam hurries to drape an arm over my chest. More and more of my spirit wilts at the silence, the deafening silence that won’t leave me.

Finally, we all hear the heartbeat, and I bury my face in my hands and burst into tears. My shoulders are heaving and shaking as Sam squeezes my shoulders. The doctor is saying something else, but I’m too relieved to care.

I’m about to drift off again when I feel his hand on my arm again.

He pinches my skin between his thumb and forefinger, and I hiss at the contact. Then, another syringe pierces my skin, and I whimper. Slowly, I remove my free arm from around my face and look over at Sam, who has guilt written all over her features. She is biting on her bottom lip and refusing to meet my gaze again.

“What did you do?”

“Your family explained the details of your condition to me, so I brought along something useful. It won’t have any kind of effect on the baby, don’t worry.”

I swallow. “What is it?”

“Something to help you relax,” the doctor replies after a brief pause. “You should be checking in with your OB-GYN about vitamins for yourself and the baby.”

I clear my throat. “Is my baby okay?”

“Yes, would you like to know the sex of your baby?”

My breath hitches in my throat. “Can I?”

The doctor nods and smiles. “Your healthy and beautiful little girl is just fine.” He shoves the remaining supplies into his briefcase and snaps it shut. “However, and I don’t want to alarm anyone, but Isabella might need to go to the hospital for a blood transfusion.”

Anita steps forward and folds her arms over her chest. “Why?”

“She’s anemic. Now, Isabella isn’t at the point where it’s serious yet, but I’d like everyone to keep an eye on her in case she takes a turn. In a case like hers, even the smallest amount of blood loss during delivery could be dangerous.”

Sam’s eyes widen. “Is there anything we can do to prevent that from happening?”

The doctor pauses and takes out his notepad. His pen clicks on, and he scribbles something else down. “I’m going to write down the name of a colleague of mine, an OB-GYN. She’s one of the best in the business, and she’ll probably recommend a blood transfusion prior to delivery.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Anita replies, with a quick look in my direction. “Does your colleague make home visits?”

“I’m sure it can be arranged.”

Their voices drift away, and Sam perches on the edge of the bed. She takes both of my hands in her, and I don’t protest.

Nor do I stop her.

I have no idea what the doctor has given me, but I can feel it working as it pumps through my veins. I feel weightless already—like nothing can tie me down.

“I’m sorry,” Sam murmurs, her eyes filling with tears. “I know you’re going to be pissed at me when you wake up, and that’s fine.”

I stare at Sam, a kaleidoscope of emotions rising up within me. “Why?”

“You haven’t been out of bed in days. You barely eat or drink, and you don’t move at all,” Sam continues as if she hasn’t heard me. “If there was anything else, we would’ve done it. Believe me, Anita, Tristan, and I have gone over all the options.”

My tongue feels heavy and clumsy inside of my mouth.

“You and your baby are going to be fine,” Sam adds in a softer voice. “I’m going to make sure of it, and I don’t want you to worry about that, okay? For now, you just need to sleep.”

Except for the first time in days, I don’t want to sleep.

I fight the pull of sleep for as long as I can, even earning a yelp from Sam when I squeeze her hand too hard. Still, she doesn’t let go, and she doesn’t leave the room. My limbs start to grow heavy, and my head lolls to the side. I try to keep my eyes open for as long as possible, even as spots dance in my field of vision.

My grip goes slack, and Sam stands up.

She draws the covers back up to my chin and lingers. “I really am sorry, Isabella.”

My last thought before I drift off to sleep is of Carter and what he would do if he were here.

I can’t blame Sam for making a difficult decision, not when Carter himself would’ve done the same. Before my eyes flutter shut, I imagine Carter holding me in his arms and stroking my hair.

All my dreams are of Carter on the edge of the same field, holding an arm out in my direction while the other arm holds the baby to him. This time, the baby doesn’t have Rich’s face. Instead, she looks like my mother, and it sends a pang of regret through me. My mother’s been gone for years after a brief and tumultuous fight with dementia.

I try not to think about her, but when I see her face on my baby’s body, it’s like I’ve been punched in the gut. Throughout the dream, I keep running across the field of grass, but I’m never close enough to reach them. Eventually, Carter stops holding his hand out, takes our baby, and leaves.

And it’s like my heart is ripped out every single time.

When I sit up in bed, drenched in sweat and with my heart hammering against my chest, I have no idea what time it is. It takes me too long to figure out where I am, especially when I take in the unfamiliar closet along the opposite wall and a door leading into the adjoining, tile-floored bathroom. Finally, when I shove my hair out of my face, I realize that Sam is sitting in a rocking chair by the window.

She snaps her book shut when I look at her. “Good, you’re awake.”

I lean back against the mattress, my heart still pounding steadily in my ears. “How long have I been asleep?”

Sam grimaces and stands up. “A day and a half. Tristan, Anita, and I took turns watching you.”

I press a hand to my forehead and exhale. “Did the doctor come by again?”

Sam swallows and clears his throat. “Once. He brought your test results over himself, and he wanted to check on your fever.”

“My fever?”

“You spiked a fever after he gave you the sedative,” Sam replies with a frown. “We couldn’t get you out of bed to get you to the hospital, and we were afraid of hurting the baby. Dr. Huntley hurried over when we called him.”

I drape an arm over my stomach and blink, chasing away some of the spots in my field of vision. “Thank you.”

Sam drifts over and leans over me, and it’s only then that I realize she’s got dark circles under her eyes and a shirt that is on backward. “What are you thanking me for? I feel terrible.”

“For saving my life?”

“Because I had to ignore you to save your life and your baby’s life,” Sam responds after a brief pause. “If you want to be mad at me, I understand.”

I blow out another shaky breath. “I’m not mad at you. I don’t want to be mad at anyone. I’m just… tired.”

Sam peers at my face. “Do you want to go and sit in the garden? Get some fresh air? The doctor said it’ll be good for you and the baby.”

I start to shake my head, then nod when I see the look on Sam’s face.

In silence, she helps me to my feet and hovers in the doorway to the bathroom while I change. Through the slit, I see her clench and unclench her hands. Then, I splash cold water on my face and grip the edges of the sink. After changing into a clean shirt and a pair of jeans, I come out of the bathroom and lean against the nearest wall.

Sam drapes an arm over my shoulders and gently guides me outside. The house smells like cinnamon and ginger, and it makes my stomach grumble.

Anita does a double take when she sees me, a spatula held in her hand. She lowers her hand and gives me a bright smile, her whole face changing. “I’m so glad you’re finally up, Isabella. I was making something for us to eat. Do you have any preferences?”

I lick my lips. “I’d love some of that soup you gave me the other day.”

Anita nods eagerly. “You got it. Why don’t you and Sam sit outside, and I’ll have Tristan bring over a tray?”

Sam steers me in the direction of the double French doors, overlooking the lush green backyard with a high wall and barbed wire around the fence. When she stops to slide the door open, I pat my hair down and grimace. Slowly, Sam leads me outside, pausing only to retrieve two foldable chairs. She sets them down in the middle of the garden, in an area where the sun is bright and shining, then takes me there.

I sink into the chair, some of the tightness in my chest unfurling. “How long have I been here?”

“Five days,” Sam replies before sinking into the chair opposite mine. “Tristan and I moved into your room upstairs to help Anita. I hope that’s okay.”

I sit up straighter and tilt my head back, allowing the sun to warm the bridge of my nose. “I don’t want to stay in that room anyway.”

Not when it’s going to smell like Carter, a living, breathing reminder that he’s somewhere else. Somewhere that I can’t go.

Thinking about him makes my stomach dip, but I can’t help but wonder. Is he missing me like I’m missing him? Or does he finally feel free to pursue another dove, someone who hasn’t been broken by the chaos?

Knowing that I don’t have blood on my hands only makes me feel slightly better, especially when compared to Carter’s reaction after.

Was I always going to lose Carter to the truth? Are he and I only meant to exist in the shadows of his life amid the darkness and destruction?

Sam leans forward and takes my hand in hers. “I’m glad you agreed to come and sit outside. You look better already.”

I snort. “I look awful.”

“I can help with that. Do you know that I used to work at a hair salon?” Sam brightens at the memory, and her lips lift into a smile. “I won’t be able to do as good of a job as if you go to a professional hair salon, but I was in that business for years.”

“You never told me that.”

Sam shrugs, and some of her expression dims. “There’s nothing to tell. It was another life, and I was another person.”

I lower my head and look directly at her. “Do you hate me for dragging you into all this?”

Sam gives me a surprised look. “Is that what you think? Isabella, you didn’t drag me into anything. I wanted—I still want to be your friend. I made the decision to stay, just like you did.”

A lump rises in my throat. “You don’t feel like I pressured or tricked you into any of this?”

Sam pushes her chair closer and reaches for my other hand. “Not at all. If anything, I’m the one who should be apologizing. I kept pestering you and sticking my nose where it didn’t belong.”

I give Sam the barest hint of a smile. “I like that you did that. It made me feel less alone.”

“You’re not alone, Isabella,” Sam insists, shifting even closer to me. “I know things are confusing with Carter right now, but you have other people in your life who care about you.”

I open and close my mouth several times. But I can’t force the words out. How can I?

Saying them out loud is as good as admitting that they’re true, and the last thing I want is to spiral into another meltdown because I can’t handle everything.

Fear settles into the center of my stomach. “I’m afraid that Carter isn’t going to come back. If he really believes those things he said… that I somehow forgot to replace the implant on purpose. What’s to stop him from leaving me?”

“He loves you, Isabella. I know that Carter and I don’t see eye to eye, and I’m not exactly giving him a ringing endorsement here, but I’m big enough to admit when I’m wrong. He does love you.”

I search Sam’s face, the pressure in my chest building. “What if love isn’t enough?”

Sam pauses, a myriad of emotions dancing across her face. “Then you’ll both figure out something that works. No two couples are the same. There’s no one-size-fits-all solution, but I do believe that the two of you have been through a lot together.”

“Hardship can tear people apart.”

“It can also bring them closer together,” Sam points out, her voice rising toward the end. “My guess is that Carter is freaked out, and he wants to figure out how to handle all of this.”

Because he has a decision to make, and it’s not abstract anymore.

Even though I didn’t explicitly tell him to walk away from the only life he’s ever known and the empire he’s worked hard to build, the implication is still clear.

Carter and I can no longer survive in this deadly environment. Not anymore. And Carter is beginning to come to the same conclusion.

It shouldn’t have taken a baby for us to come to this decision, but I’m not going to apologize for looking out for her. Our child isn’t even here yet, and I’d already do anything and everything for her.

Sam lapses into silence when Tristan appears in a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt, carrying a tray of food. Wordlessly, he sets it down on the grass and disappears. I’m about to say something else when Tristan re-emerges with a foldable table. He puts it down between us and picks the tray back up.

When he lifts his gaze to mine, I offer him a grim smile. “Thank you.”

Tristan sets the tray down as carefully as possible and nods. “Sure.”

Sam motions to me, but I don’t pick up the spoon.

“I want to talk to him, Tristan. I need to explain some things to him.”

Otherwise, he’ll spiral and do something stupid. Carter isn’t exactly known for making rational decisions when he’s angry or hurt.

Tristan shoves his hands into his pockets and looks up at the sky, at the slew of blue clouds rolling by. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Isabella. I’m sorry.”

My stomach dips. “Is it because he told you that he doesn’t want to talk to me?”

Tristan is quiet for a while.

I place my hands underneath my thighs and ignore the panic rising within me.

In his way, Tristan is trying to help, and I’m sure it can’t be easy for him to be placed in the middle.

Again.

“Carter isn’t really talking to anyone right now,” Tristan admits, pausing to release a slow and uneven breath. “He’s safe, but I can’t tell you much else.”

I grow smaller. “Because he doesn’t want you to tell me?”

“Because he doesn’t want anyone to know,” Tristan replies gently. He runs a hand through his hair, and his expression softens. “I wouldn’t take it personally, Isabella. Sometimes, it’s just how he operates.”

But I’m not anyone. And Carter has never iced me out like this before. Even when he dances around topics he doesn’t want to talk about, at least he’s present.

I’ve never felt further away from him.

“I’m sure he’s working on some things.” Sam is quick to add, with a pointed look in Tristan’s direction. She looks back at me and forces a smile to her lips. “And he’ll be back before you know it. Right, Tristan?”

Tristan gives a start and coughs. “Yeah, sure.”

Sam pushes her chair next to mine and picks up a spoon. She hands it to me and waits until I’ve stirred the soup around and taken a sip. “In the meantime, I’m sure he’ll check in when he can. He does still have the treaty to worry about and everything else that goes along with it.”

Tristan nods a little too quickly. “It’s complicated and tricky. He has to be careful; otherwise, another war could start.”

I take a sip of my meatball soup and exhale. “Okay.”

Tristan gives my back an awkward pat. “It’ll be okay, Isabella. Carter won’t stay away for long, and you’ve got all of us in the meantime.”

Anita materializes next to us, an apron still tied around her waist and her hair gathered into a bun on top of her head. “And I plan on spoiling my future niece and great niece, so after you’re done eating, we’re all going to go out and buy a few things for the baby. After that, we’re going to have a nice lunch.”

“I don’t know if I feel like it,” I admit without meeting Anita’s gaze.

While I appreciate everything they’re trying to do for me, I’m not in a celebratory mood. Not even close.

Outside of my baby, Carter is the only family I have.

Or at least that’s what I tell myself as Sam helps me finish the rest of my soup and then marches me to the guest room downstairs. She selects a long-sleeved, ankle-length dress, a jean jacket, and ballet flats. With a smile, she pulls the door shut behind her, and I can hear her outside. Tristan’s voice joins hers, but I can’t make out what they’re saying.

A short while later, I hear footsteps climbing up the stairs.

With a great deal of reluctance, I get dressed and step out of the room, only to run straight into Anita. She places both arms around my shoulders and leads me into the kitchen. There, she opens the refrigerator and takes out a pitcher of iced tea. I sit on the stool while she pours a generous amount into two glasses. She touches her glass to mine and waits till I take a few sips.

“Anita is a strong name for a baby.”

I swallow back a few more sips and offer her a weak smile. “Oh, I haven’t decided on a name yet. I’m sure Carter will want to suggest a few names.”

If he ever speaks to me again.

Anita finishes her drink and takes my empty glass. She washes them both and sets them out to dry. “Carter isn’t going to care. As long as you’re both healthy and happy. Anita works as a middle name, too, you know.”

I smile as Anita loops her arm through mine, and we wait for Sam and Tristan by the door. “It is a great name.”

And I want to honor the Blackthorne family matriarch. Even if Carter and I are over, it doesn’t mean Anita and I can’t still be a part of each other’s lives.

As I’m led outside to a car that Tristan drives, with Sam taking the passenger seat and Anita sliding into the back, I wonder if it’s still possible for me to have a family. Or is Carter going to expect blind loyalty from his family when it comes to me? Am I going to be cast out into the rain?

Waiting for Carter is hard, but not knowing which version of him is coming back to me is harder. I press my head against the glass and try not to dwell on it as the world outside rushes past in a blur of shapes and colors. In the distance, the mall complex shimmers, set against a backdrop of clear blue skies. Tristan drops us off in front of the door and ambles off to find a parking spot. Sam and Anita stand on either side of me while we wait.

And I wonder if this is going to be the life I’m expected to lead from now on.