“Mom?” Paige whispers.
I turn to see her sitting up, her gaze locked on the same vision mine was a second ago.
“He left his room,” she says, frowning.
A figure shifts in the doorway and I look up to see my mother standing there with Mallorie hovering just behind her.
“He doesn’t want to be apart from you,” Paige says.
I swallow then glance up at Mallorie. My best friend knows me so well I don’t have to give her any words for her to know what I’m saying and what I need.
“Come on Paige,” she says, with a sad but resigned lilt to her voice. “Let’s give your mom and Augusto some space. I was going to take your grandma for a walk. You should join us.”
“Um, okay. That sounds good.”
I stand to give my daughter a tight hug then watch them leave.
When I hear their footsteps on the stairs, my gaze drifts back to him and I remember how he stitched me together with blood on his own hands. I remember how he looked more afraid of losing me than of dying himself.
Then I remember what I’ve come to understand with absolute clarity. This life will never stop being dangerous.
He shifts in the chair, waking slowly, his eyes locking onto mine as soon as they can.
“You’re awake,” he says, brokenly.
“So are you,” I smile.
His gaze scans me slowly. “How are you feeling?”
I rub a hand over my eyes. “Relieved,” I say, honestly. “But also…”
“Also what?”
I look back at him wearily. “Sad. I feel sad because…” I turn away, unable to look at him. “I have to leave.”
“It’s safe to go home now,” he murmurs.
“No, that’s not what I mean.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” I drift my gaze back to his. “I need to leaveyou. This life. I can’t be a part of it.”
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat but he doesn’t speak.
“I have a daughter,” I remind him. “And I put her in danger.”
“You didn’t put her in danger, Erin. Gerard did.”
“But you live in the same world, Augusto.” I shrug my arms to the side. “I don’t want her to be a part of it. I’m sorry.”
He stares at me for a long moment then shifts in his chair. Wincing from the pain, he reaches into a back pocket of his jeans and pulls out an envelope. Then he holds it out.
“Then you must take this.”
I glance down at the envelope. It’s thick with green notes.
I shake my head, sadly. “I can’t take it.”
