Page 52 of Depths of Destruction
"It's true. You're never giving up your career, are you?"
"Did I ever say I would?" I cried out.
His jaw clenched and he turned away from me.
I lowered my voice. "I'm sorry if… Did you really believe I would eventually quit?"
He sighed and turned back. "I think deep down, I knew you wouldn't. But it's what I've always hoped."
"I'm sorry, but I'm not quitting. This is my dream. I've worked hard to get where I am."
"I know. And I'm proud of you, really, I am. But I can't keep doing this. I'm wasting my life, and I need to move on."
"What are you saying, then?"
"If you aren't going to stop this story and move to Punta Gorda, then we're done."
"Darien—"
"No. I think we need to stop. I'm not going to watch you stick your nose into the cartel's business, and I'm not going to keep hoping you'll move here. We're done, Naomi."
"What exactly does done mean?"
"No more phone calls. No emails or texts. If you change your mind, you know where to find me. But I have to let you go."
I left Punta Gorda in tears, wondering if I was making the right choice. Darien was always good to me. We had fun together. I trusted him, and he's a good man.
I felt like I lost my best friend. In many ways, I did.
At first, it was hard. I'd read or see something I would usually call or text him about and have to stop myself. One day, it hit me. I didn't miss him because I loved him. Loneliness was what caused me to almost run back to him, and it's what the catalyst for all our meetups over the years stemmed from.
Darien was comfortable. He was safe. I loved him. But I wasn't in love with him.
But he was in love with me. I always knew it. So I needed to respect his request and stay away so he could move on with his life.
Andre's deep voice rips me out of my thoughts, "Naomi?"
"Hmm?"
His eyes turn to slits. "Do you trust him?"
"Yes, I trust him with my life."
Something passes in Andre's eyes, but I'm not sure what. As soon as it's there, it's gone. "Tell me where to go."
My stomach twists in knots. I point to the road ahead. "Turn left."
For several miles, we don't talk, except for when I tell Andre where to turn. We drive through town and get to the coast.
"Turn right."
A few miles out of town, I point to a cottage with several boats tied to the dock. "Pull in there."
Andre turns off the truck, and I put my hand on his arm.
"Can you give me a few minutes?"
He hesitates but says, "Sure."
