Page 9 of Redeem
He sits up and brushes the hair from his eyes. “I love her,” he admits.
“I know.” And my heart cracks a little. As I know, deep inside, I do too.
CHAPTER8
ADDIE / ISABELLA
The vibration of my phone jolts me awake from a deep sleep. I groan, rolling over to turn it off. Part of me is excited that today’s the first day of school, and the other part of me is dreading it after everything with Serena yesterday. Will Stella feel the same way? I finally had friends here, and now I may be alone again.
So many times, I wanted to tell them who I was, but I didn’t know how they’d react. I liked being somebody else. Someone without the Romano name. I finally felt like I could have my own identity, instead of being judged by the reputation of my family name.
I lie in bed for the next ten minutes, debating if I should repack my bags and go home. But in the end, the pros outweigh the cons. Anywhere is better than being back in that house that will never feel like home.
As I kick back my sheets, my stomach growls and I’m already dreading going to the cafeteria. One good thing about living in the apartment was having our own kitchen. Now I’ll have to get food with everyone else who lives on campus. With a sigh, I remake my bed and then grab a fresh towel from my closet.
After a quick shower, I don my school uniform—a pale pink checkered skirt and white shirt. It feels nice being back in this uniform. Like coming home after a long break. I just wish my friends were with me.
Grabbing the brush, I pull it through my long brown hair. When I got back home, my father insisted I remove the disgusting—according to him—blonde hair and bring it back to my natural color. My maids quickly obeyed his orders, much to my dismay. The first opportunity I get, I’m going to the salon and making it blonde again. The brown just doesn’t feel like me anymore.
Hanging my head down, I brush all of my hair into my hand and tie it into a high ponytail, topped with a Roxbury Prep pink checkered scrunchie. I apply a small amount of makeup and stare at my reflection.You’ve got this. But you’ll be alone. You’ve lost all of your friends.The words scream inside my head back and forth like an argument.
There’s a knock at the door, and I’m thankful until I rip it open to find Angelo standing there with a coffee in hand. Something stirs inside of me at not seeing Arrow and then remembering how we left things. He knows the secret. It changes everything for him, and I have no idea what will come of it. He disappeared from the house, and I haven’t heard from him since. I don’t know if my father sent him on a mission or if he is really gone.
“Morning, Isabella. Classes start in thirty minutes. Thought you’d want to grab a bite to eat first?” He brings his coffee to his lips and passes me the other.
I smile, taking it from his hand and quickly grab my bag with my laptop and phone inside. We walk in a comfortable silence, and the closer we get to the cafeteria, the more people point and stare. Whispers fill the air, making me want to turn around and run back to my dorm, but I won’t. I’ve gotten through worse than this in my life. I won’t let others' opinions of me ruin this second chance. Even if everyone hates me or talks behind my back, I’ll focus on my schoolwork and make a life for myself outside of my family's stronghold.
The cafeteria is busy, with people talking in groups and eating. There are rows and rows of long tables that go from one side of the room to the other. Angelo stays glued to my side as I move toward the food, grabbing a tray. I feel every set of eyes on the back of my head, and the whispering continues. Ignoring all of the chatter, I focus on getting breakfast, loading up on eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns. I come to the end of the line, and looking out at the sea of people, I find a familiar mop of red hair. Stella. Serena is sitting beside her and whispers something into her ear, and Stella looks up, catching my eye. I go to wave, but after a second, she focuses back on her food and I drop my hand. My stomach plummets. I need to talk with her and explain, but now isn’t the time. Not in front of everyone.
Angelo walks off to sit with the other bodyguards at one of the tables near the door, while I’m still glued to the same spot. Where do I sit now?
I look around for a table with a spare seat, and that’s when I spot Olivia and the rest of the elites waving over at me.
“Isabella,” Olivia purrs in that sickly sweet voice. “Come sit with us.” She pulls out a chair beside her, and the rest of the girls look over at me and nod with their fake smiles.
This is what I didn’t want. I never wanted to be an elite. I wanted real friends...not fake ones.
I had real friends, and I lied to them. I fucked up. I should have known I could trust them. I could have told them my secret. They deserve better than me. I only deserve the fake kind. The same I’ve had all my life.
When I turn back to Serena and Stella, they glance at Olivia and then back to me. Serena flicks her hair over her shoulder as she turns around. Stella looks conflicted, like she might change her mind. But as I take a step toward her, she turns away.
“Come on, Isabella.”
I turn back to Olivia and let out a deep breath as I make my way over. I don’t want to sit alone.
I hate being alone.
As soon as I pull the chair out, an arm touches my lower back, causing a shiver to course through my body. I whirl around to find Emilio only inches away from me, with Madden behind him. Madden nods and I smile. I haven’t seen him since that night with Adrian, since he wasn't at the funeral. He looks good. Deadly good. His long, dirty blond hair is tied up into a man bun, and he runs his finger along his jaw, looking like he wants to be anywhere else but here.
I look around, but there’s no sign of Keegan. I frown. “Where is he?” I ask, looking into Emilio’s dark blue eyes.
He shrugs, avoiding eye contact. “He’ll be around somewhere.”
The lack of eye contact has my heart racing. What does that mean? Are they fighting? Why isn't he with them?
“Emilio,” Olivia purrs from behind me.
Pulling back, he looks past me and cocks a brow. “Olivia?”
