A short, humorless laugh slips out of him. “You think I hate you?” He shakes his head. “Wow, you really don’t get it.”
“Then explain it to me. Because I really want to understand.”
For a second, he looks like he might. I see it building—the words right there, something raw and volatile just beneath the surface.
But it never comes.
Whatever he was about to say shuts down before it reaches his mouth, and something colder takes its place. “You want togo live somewhere else? Fine. But you’re going to get yourself killed.”
“One less thing for you to worry about then.”
The words hang there for a beat before he lets out a rough breath.
“Fine.”
I watch him, hoping he’ll tell me to stay. Instead, his expression goes completely cold.
“You’re an adult, and you can make your own decisions. Leave if that’s what you want to do.”
“I think it’s for the best.”
His eyes lock onto mine. Then he gives a short, dismissive nod. “Then go. I don’t care.”
His dismissal hits harder than I expect.
For a moment, neither of us moves. I search his face for something—anything—that says he doesn’t mean it. Some hesitation. Some regret.
There’s nothing there.
Part of me had hoped—just a little—that he’d ask me to stay. That he’d say something different.
But I knew he’d let me go.
I nod once and adjust the strap of the bag on my shoulder. “I’ll come back for Pearl once I’m settled and have built her a new coop. You can keep Coral.”
His eyes follow me as I pass—I can feel it without looking. And still, he says nothing.
This place has been our whole world for eight years. Leaving it should feel terrifying. Instead, it just feels sad.
A dull ache settles in my chest as I reach the edge of the clearing where the sand gives way to the first line of trees. I pause there for a moment.
This is the right thing.That’s what I tell myself. Dane deserves space. Peace. If leaving gives him that, then it’s worth it.
Even if it hurts.
The sand crunches beneath my feet as I follow the narrow path along the edge of the beach. For a few steps, there’s nothing but the wind moving through the palms and the distant rhythm of waves breaking against the reef.
Then I hear it.
Movement.
Dane.
My heart jumps before I can stop it. I slow without meaning to, waiting—for his voice, for my name, for anything that will make me turn around.
Another step behind me.
For one brief, fragile second, I’m sure he’s coming after me. But his voice never comes.
