Her gaze widened, full of understanding now.
“Exactly,” I pointed out. “I took matters into my own hands to save you, and I refuse to apologize for that, but I didn’t call the cops to punish him, Isla. I did it to save him. Let’s get that really fucking clear, I swear to you that was my intent.”
“It had nothing to do with me telling you I’m pregnant?”
I shook my head. “No.”
The silence settled again.
Heavier that time.
“How long have you known?”
“Long enough.”
“And that goes beyond yesterday?”
“I’m getting him out,” I insisted. “I promise.”
Disbelief was still in her expression, but something else was now mixed in.
Fear? Hope? Trust in me?
I could see it in her composure and feel it on my skin that she despised all three.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“It means I have people working on it.”
“What people?”
“The kind who know how to handle this.”
Her eyes narrowed in on me. “You’re not telling me everything.”
“No,” I agreed. “I’m not.”
“Why?”
“Because the more you know, the more dangerous it could be for you.”
“I’m already involved!”
“Not as bad as you could be.”
Her chest rose and fell. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”
“No, but I do get to limit how much damage reaches you and my baby.”
She glared at me like she didn’t know whether to scream or break down. It was probably a little bit of both.
“I do hate you right now.”
I nodded again. “I know.”
“If you’re lying…” Her voice wavered, then steadied. “If you’re lying about trying to get him out…”
“I’m not.”
