chapter 20 Isla
868 Words
I didn’t knock this time.
I just opened the door and stepped inside.
My mom looked up immediately.
She didn’t ask anything.
Didn’t question it.
She just—
Looked at me.
And that was worse.
Because she saw it.
Whatever was written all over my face, whatever I hadn’t figured out how to hide yet—
She saw it.
“You saw him,” she said.
Not a question.
I closed the door behind me, leaning back against it for a second before moving further into the room.
“Yeah.”
My voice came out flat.
Not tired.
Not angry.
Just—
Off.
She watched me for another second before gesturing toward the bed.
“Sit.”
I did.
Because I didn’t have the energy not to.
Silence settled between us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
Just—
Waiting.
“He didn’t throw you out,” she said.
I let out a quiet breath.
“No.”
“He didn’t reject the bond.”
“No.”
Another pause.
Then—
“And you didn’t run.”
That one made me look up.
Her gaze held mine.
Steady.
Certain.
“I thought about it,” I said.
She nodded slightly.
“I know.”
Of course she did.
I looked away, my hands resting loosely in my lap.
“I don’t get him,” I admitted.
The words came out quieter this time.
More honest.
“He’s not acting the way he should.”
My mom didn’t answer right away.
Which meant she was choosing her words.
Carefully.
“He’s acting exactly how I expected him to.”
That made me frown.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does if you stop looking at it like he’s supposed to hate you.”
My chest tightened.
“He should.”
“You want him to.”
The correction was soft.
But it landed.
I shook my head slightly.
“No. I just—after everything—”
“You need it to be simple,” she said.
That stopped me.
Because—
Yeah.
I did.
I needed him to hate me.
Because that was easier.
Easier than whatever this was.
Easier than the way he looked at me.
Easier than the way he didn’t let me go.
“I don’t know what this is,” I said.
That was the truth.
Not the anger.
Not the frustration.
That.
She leaned back slightly, still watching me.
“It’s unfinished.”
The word settled between us.
Unfinished.
That felt right.
Too right.
“I left,” I said.
“Yes.”
“I didn’t come back.”
“No.”
“And now I’m here and he’s acting like—like none of that matters.”
Her gaze didn’t shift.
“It matters,” she said quietly. “Just not in the way you think it does.”
I frowned slightly.
“Then how?”
She didn’t answer right away.
Because she didn’t need to.
Because I already knew.
I just didn’t want to say it out loud.
“He’s not letting you leave again,” she said.
There it was.
Simple.
Clear.
Exactly what I’d been trying not to think about.
My chest tightened.
“He doesn’t get to decide that.”
Her expression softened slightly.
“No,” she said. “But you don’t get to pretend it doesn’t matter either.”
Silence stretched.
Thicker this time.
Because that was the part I didn’t have an answer for.
“What am I supposed to do?” I asked finally.
The words came out quieter than anything else.
More honest than I meant them to be.
She didn’t hesitate this time.
“Stay.”
I let out a breath.
“That’s not enough.”
“It is right now.”
I looked away again, my jaw tightening slightly.
“That doesn’t fix anything.”
“No,” she agreed. “It doesn’t.”
Another pause.
Then—
“It gives you a chance to.”
That—
That was worse.
Because it meant there was something to fix.
Something still there.
Something that hadn’t ended the way I told myself it had.
Her gaze shifted slightly, more thoughtful now.
“They’re watching you,” she added.
That made me look back at her.
“The pack.”
Of course they were.
“They see you with him,” she continued. “They see the bond. They’re already forming opinions.”
“I don’t care what they think.”
“You will if you stay.”
That came out softer.
But more certain.
I didn’t respond.
Because I didn’t like that answer.
Because I didn’t like what it implied.
“You don’t have to decide anything today,” she said.
“But you do need to stop running from it.”
I swallowed slightly.
Because that was the part I wasn’t ready for.
Because staying meant more than just—
Staying.
It meant facing everything I left behind.
Him.
The pack.
What happened.
All of it.
Silence settled again.
Heavier.
Unavoidable.
And for the first time since I came back—
I wasn’t thinking about how to leave.
I was thinking about what it would mean—
If I didn’t.
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