Page 83 of Everything We Left Behind

I shook my head. “No.”

“Maybe it’s stress that’s causing the headaches. Have you considered antidepressants or anxiety meds?”

“No drugs,” I said, slicing the air between us. “They’re too addictive.”

She gave me a look. While aspirin itself isn’t addictive, we both knew my reliance on those pills to manage the pain was pretty close to an addiction.

Natalya lifted her gaze toward the ceiling. She was frustrated with me and I didn’t blame her.Iwas frustrated with me. She let her hands fall into her lap. “I understand why you don’t travel, and I get why you don’t want to see a doctor. What I can’t figure out is why you insist on living with the pain when you can do something about it. Think of your sons.”

“I am.” I stomped to my bureau where my laptop was charging. “I think of them and their future with a father who can’t remember them every goddamn second of the day. Someone who may always have to be on the run with them.”

“You don’t know that, Carlos. It’s been several years and no one has come after you. I don’t think anyone from that cartel knows who you are, let alone that James is still alive.”

“Not yet.” Phil was still in prison and still believed me dead.What will happen when he discovers the truth?Because instinct told me one day he would.

Natalya sighed, exasperated. “Tell me how I can help. I want to help you.”

Marry me. Adopt my sons. Run far away with them so James or anyone in the Donato family can’t find them.

“Look, I’m tired. I don’t want to talk about this right now.” I yanked out the charge cord and grabbed the laptop.

“Where are you going?”

I turned in the doorway at the note of panic in her voice. She’d risen to her knees, white-knuckling the sheet with both hands. For a splinter of a moment I wanted to drop the laptop and dive back into bed with her. Reassure both of us that everything would be fine. But those were promises I couldn’t keep.

“I’m going downstairs. To write.”

She sat back onto her heels, but she still gripped the sheet. “I don’t like arguing. Please don’t leave. Come back to bed.” She patted the pillow beside her.

“Go to sleep. I’m just going to the kitchen.” I pulled the door closed behind me, leaving it open a crack. I walked past Marcus’s room, then Julian’s.

“Dad?”

I backtracked to his room and poked in my head. His Captain America night-light cast a soft blue glow, chasing shadows into the corner.

“Is it morning yet?” Julian sat up in the middle of his bed and rubbed his eyes.

“Almost. We have a few more hours before sunrise.”

He flopped back onto the pillows. “I’m going to ride down the mountain faster than you.”

“I’m sure you will. Get some sleep.”

He yawned. “Good night,papá.”

I bounded down the stairs to the kitchen and fired up my laptop. While I waited, I sorted through yesterday’s mail, adding the latest magazines to the pile along the far wall. The newspaper didn’t have any articles I thought would be of interest to me later, so I dropped it in the recycling container.

Once the laptop was ready, I opened my Cloud account and uploaded the twenty or so pictures I took yesterday—photos of the boys and Natalya at Julian’sfútbolgame—then I added them to the folder where I was storing this month’s images. I had files for everything—photos, journal entries, financial statements, legal documents, and other important instructions. I even wrote notes about what I did on a daily basis, whom I loved (Natalya and my sons), whom I trusted (Natalya) and whom I did not (Thomas and Imelda). Everything was in meticulous order. Because that hypnosis session Thomas forcibly subjected me to? It hadn’t just brought on the headaches. It woke the Jekyll to my Hyde. My other self was fighting his way to the surface, and I knew, without a doubt, I didn’t have much time left.

“Slow down.”

Julian hunched low over the handlebars and leaned into the turn. I coasted behind, picking up speed. The loop through the foothills was mostly paved and we’d ridden it many times. For an eight-year-old, Julian was fearless on his bike.

I moved up alongside him. “Ease up. Stay in control.”

He tackled another turn, putting slight pressure on the brake.

“Looking good.”

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