Page 44 of High Stakes and Soulmates
Lorenzo laughs. “He owns many trading ships that supply the government with money. You really think they’re going to agree to killing him?”
“If he’s not a good person, why should it matter what he does?”
“You want him dead so you can take that man. And what then? Are you just going to stuff him in your pocket and haul him all around while you’re in the military? You know we’re not allowed to involve our partners. Your life is with us.”
“As soon as I’ve done my term?—”
“Your life is with us. Do you understand?”
“This is your life and our father’s life. It isn’t my fucking life,” I snap. “When the term is over, I’m done.”
He strikes me across the face, the wedding ring he wears cutting into me—the ring a promise to a woman he’s barely seen. “Do not disappoint this family.”
“It’s shocking how much you hated Father every time he hit you and yet you’re slowly turning out more and more like him. I truly hope the child your wife carries isn’t a son or the cycle will start all over again,” I say, wiping blood from my lip.
Lorenzo freezes, eyes fixated on me as I turn from him and pack my bag. Then, knowing he’ll yell if I take too long, I write the simplest note to Arturo.
Called away for a couple of weeks. I’ll be back soon. I love you, my treasure.
Then I fold it and leave it on my bed. When I turn back, Lorenzo still hasn’t said anything. He’s just standing in the doorway, a strange look on his face. At first, I’m unsure whether he’s going to hit me again and then tear up my note or what he plans to do.
“I can’t leave the room with you in the doorway,” I say, voice cold.
“I’m nothing like Father,” he whispers.
“Are you not?”
“I’mnothinglike him,” he snarls. “I’m nothing like him!” This time, it sounds like he’s begging me. Like he can persuade me into believing him even as my face stings.
He grabs my face and uses his sleeve to wipe away the blood. “I’m not going to fuck my child up.”
“Will your child even know your face?” I ask. “We’re caught in this hell because that’s what Father has beaten into us. But if we get away from him, we can get away from this.”
Lorenzo lowers his hand. “Let’s go. We need to get moving.”
I follow his broad back, a back I’ve followed most of my life. It was a back that shielded me when we were children but as we grew older, I think something broke inside of him, just the way Father wanted it to. He started to become more and more like him. Lorenzo would eat up his praise, but Father only praised for shit I never wanted to be a part of.
The two weeks become three before we finally return. The thought of coming back to Arturo is the only thing that keeps me moving. And with it, I realize that when we leave for good… will I be able to keep going? Years of living with my father before years in the army seem to have torn me apart.
I’m the first one to have my horse unsaddled, and instead of going to my room to rest as everyone else does, I rush to the tree I always meet Arturo at. I would assume he’d have heard I returned. Maybe not today but tomorrow for sure. He told me never to seek him out at the estate, that when he’s there, heshould be working. So I wait patiently as day turns to night and with night, dawn comes.
I return to my room to sleep, well aware he knows how to find his way to my bed. I dream that he slips in through the window and slides under the sheets with me but when I wake, I find my bed empty and cold.
Today is a day of rest, so I head back out to the tree and wait before I wander over to a baker I know he often visits.
“Good evening. Do you know if Arturo has been in lately?” I ask.
“Not for a few days now. Someone else has been picking up the food,” he explains.
“Did they already come for today?”
“Yes. If I see them tomorrow, I’ll let them know that you’re hoping to speak to Arturo.”
“Thank you,” I say, nerves eating at my stomach.
As I start back toward the tree, I see Lorenzo and a few fellow soldiers making their way toward me. Lorenzo says something to them before breaking off and stopping in front of me.
“People are noticing your obsession with this tree.”
