Chapter 4

“That’s not what this is…” Mico breaks into my rambling thoughts.

“Stop it! I don’t want it, and this conversation is over. Please just go. If we’re done, I need to get better, get out, and know where to collect my belongings.” I snap at him, closing down and pushing away. He may be my first real friend, but I am doing the only thing I know how to do in life to protect myself. I am running away. Emotionally, mentally and when I am well—physically. I don’t need other humans touching my life anymore. I am better when they are all gone. It has been proven time and again.

“Camilla?” Mico soothes, trying to reason and move towards me, a pleading look enveloping that face and trying to soften my resolve, but I raise a palm. Remorse for being rude to him pushed down by my inner steel. I know what’s best for me.

“I’m sorry. I am thankful for all you ever did, but you and him… I need you both gone. I don’t need you standing guard by my bed or waiting for me to change my mind. It’s over—all of it. It’s a concussion, and I’m not suicidal. I was drunk and stupid and caught in his spell… it’s not the case anymore, and I won’t be downing booze anytime soon. I need to let all of this go, and that includes you… Go, please, Mico.”

Mico stops stock still, and we both regard one another, eyes focused, and I try not to imprint the memory of his face in my mind as the one human being who was decent towards me. I know I am putting myself first, which is the right thing. It only hurts for a little while, and then it will all go away. I won’t care about him soon and will forget what he was. That’s how this works on both sides.

I don’t have friends.

I have to remember that.

He waits for what seems like an eternity as he analyses the stubborn set of my jaw and finally relents. He has the sense to know this is a battle he will not win. I won’t back down, and all of this is delaying the inevitable. He sighs heavily, eyes dropping as his intense digging of my features soothes away.

Mico picks up the money and holds it momentarily, weighing it as though he’s thinking of trying again. Defeat crosses his face as he thinks better of it and slides it back into his jacket with a precise even movement.

He pulls out a card instead and holds it out to me with a more determined half-smile, and locks his eyes back on mine with a newly returned unemotional gaze.

“Keep this. It’s my direct number, and I will be on the end of that cell phone should you ever need help, in any way, at any time… I’m not my cousin Camilla. I’m your friend and will still care about you even when you’re gone.” His voice is gentle.

It’s a weird moment.

Eyes locked silently. So many feelings course through me, and I sniff back an unexpected tear. My heart is aching with this strange tenderness, and doubt hits me low in the gut. Mild panic swirling that maybe I shouldn’t be so hasty.

If only Mico were the guy I had fallen in love with and had no other woman in the wings keeping his bed warm. Maybe I could have a chance to be happy with someone who might treat me a little better.

I never had a friend—not a real one, and now I am telling him I never want to see him again.

I will walk away the same way I came into the Carrero world—alone and beaten.

I lean out, take it carefully not to touch his hand, and cradle it in my palm like a precious gem as my eyes return to his. I am brimming with tears and unable to formulate a response with the sudden lump lodged in my throat. I try for a smile instead, and he nods. Seemingly understanding of the raw emotion that must be evident on my face.

He may never have been a lover, but my heart is breaking.

“Hang in there, kid… You’re stronger than you think, and I don’t doubt you will bounce back. It’s the thing I admire most. I’ll miss your face and that British sass. The club won’t be the same without you… I’ll make sure your belongings are brought here so you don’t have us hanging over you anymore. The bill’s paid. You have to get better.” Mico swallows, clearing his throat as though he, too, is suffering from a sudden surge of uncontrollable emotions. His eyes are misting, and he looks away from me to the open doorway.

“Goodbye, Mico,” I whisper, so it’s barely audible, and he nods. Clears his throat again, as though it’s hurting him too. We both know I will never call; this is the last time he will ever see me. We are drawing a line in the sand; I won’t be a Carrero problem anymore after this.

That’s it.

After our sad goodbye, he turns on his heel and leaves me alone to ponder what happened. Heavy and pain-ridden. Struggling to breathe as he disappears for the last time.

After almost a year of agony, my brain is pushing it all aside and focusing on the only thing that matters now.

I’m free.

With the money in my bank account from working for Alexi with practically no living expenses and nothing in my path to stop me. It’s not a huge amount, but it’s enough to scrape by if I am smart until I am back on my feet and find a place to begin again.

It’s what I am good at.

Moving, leaving, wiping the slate clean and starting everything over again.

I am Camilla Walters, and running is what I do best.