Page 31 of The Tourist

I’ve written this article not just for me, but for all those who are struggling to find their way. By shedding light on the realities of my captivity and long road to recovery, I want to remind everyone that the fight doesn’t end when the chains are broken. It continues, every day, as we strive to reclaim our lives and our sense of self.

I hope my story can serve as a beacon of hope and a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. Healing is possible, but it requires time, support, and an unyielding determination to confront the darkness head-on. Each step forward is a victory over the demons that seek to pull us back into the abyss.

To the families and friends of survivors, your support is crucial. The road to recovery is not linear. There will be good days and bad, and there will be moments of progress and moments of regression. Your patience, love, and understanding can make all the difference.

In sharing my story, I hope to provide a sense of solidarity as well as a reminder that no one has to face this journey alone. Together, we can create a community of support. We can build a network of strength that will help each of us find our way back to the light.

By the time I finish reading, my vision is blurred with tears. Crying is not something I ever do, but Chloe’s words are powerful, raw, and painfully honest. I feel a surge of guilt for sending her away. She’s been through hell, and instead of supporting her, I’ve distanced myself, thinking it was for the best. I was thinking of myself, not her.

I pick up the phone and dial Eaton’s number. It rings twice before he answers.

“Diego, what’s up?”

“I need to bring Chloe back,” I tell him, not bothering with pleasantries. “She shouldn’t be away from me. She needs my support.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “Are you sure? She’s settling in here.”

“I’m sure,” I reply firmly. “I’ve read the article she’s written. It’s made me realize how much she needs someone who understands what she’s been through. And I need her too.”

Eaton sighs. “All right. I’ll let her know. By the way, when I said she was settling in, I was lying. She’s miserable. I told you that catching feelings hits you hard! When can you come to get her?”

“Immediately,” I say without hesitation, and standing up, I grab my car keys and head for the door. “I’m leaving now.”

The drive to Eaton’s house feels longer than it should. My mind races with thoughts of Chloe, of how I can make things right. When I finally arrive, Shelby greets me at the door.

“She’s in her room, packing,” Shelby informs me. “She’s missed you, you know.”

“I’ve missed her too,” I admit. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

Shelby nods. “Of course. Go to her. She’s waiting for you.”

I find Chloe in her room, packing a small suitcase that’s on the bed. She looks up as I enter.

“Diego,” she whispers and begins nervously biting the corner of her lip.

“I read your article,” I tell her. “It was… powerful. I’m sorry I sent you away. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I realize now that we need each other.”

Chloe takes a step toward me. “Diego, I… I didn’t write it so you’d feel obliged to come here to get me.”

“No,” I interrupt her. “Let me finish. I want to be there for you. And I want you to be there for me, too. We can help each other heal. The article made me realize I was being an idiot, sending you away. I need your support while I’m searching for Serena, and as Eaton keeps telling me, I’m catching feelings for you.”

Tears fill her eyes, and she nods. “I feel the same way about you. But as a journalist, I’m not sure ‘catching feelings’ are the words I’d choose to describe it.”

I hold my hand out toward her, and as she takes it, I pull her to me and press a soft kiss to her lips. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

She looks up at me with a big smile on her face. “Yes, let’s go home.”

CHAPTER21

Chloe

The kitchen is filled with the comforting sounds of sizzling vegetables and the clinking of utensils. The rich aromas of garlic, onions, and fresh herbs fill the air, making my stomach growl in anticipation. Diego and I are preparing dinner together. We’re making chili.

“Careful with those peppers,” Diego warns, a grin on his face. “They’re hotter than you think.”

“I can handle a little heat,” I retort, trying to keep my tone light despite the fluttering in my stomach.

There’s something about being in the kitchen with Diego, sharing this simple act with him, that feels incredibly intimate. When he said he was catching feelings, I knew what he meant because I am as well. It’s so strange. I’ve known him all my life, but for the first time, I see him as more than Serena’s scary, big brother. It’s a bonus that he’s very handsome as well.

---