“That doesn’t answer my question.”
Some distressed emotion glistened in his eyes. “I wanted to talk to you. We never settled things between us, Lina.”
“What’s there to say? We loved each other once. We had a child. Neither of those things are true anymore.”
He shook his head, lips pursing. “You owe it to me to talk things out.”
A flood of anger made her whole body shake. “Owe it to you?”
He sighed. “I mean—”
“I know what you meant.” She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. He was wrong. She owed him nothing. But she did owe it to herself. Thorne was one loose thread she should have resolved long ago.
“Okay, fine. Let’s talk.”
His brows rose in obvious surprise, but he nodded and said, “Not here. My apartment is just a few blocks away.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
Thorne turned and then peeked back at her, almost as if he didn’t expect her to follow. She fell into step beside him, silently accompanying him out of the park. When her gaze strayed to him, she allowed herself the freedom to study his profile. Once upon a time, the very sight of him had made her go weak with desire. She’d found him unbearably beautiful, with his tall build, light skin, and blond hair.
Now all she saw was a pale shadow of a true man.
Compared to Dagan and his strong, radiant beauty, Thorne was nothing.
He noticed her staring, and a small smile curved his lips. “We always had a spark between us, didn’t we? I still feel it, burning hot as ever.”
She opened her mouth to correct his misconception, but honestly, he wasn’t worth the trouble. So she simply screwed her lips shut and continued on in silence.
Several minutes later, they arrived at Thorne’s apartment—a tiny, one-bedroom walk-up located just blocks from the Fordham University campus. Lina stepped into the living room, taking in the worn beige carpet, nondescript furniture, and the room’s distinct lack of personality. It looked as if the space could belong to any old college student.
“Live here long?” she asked.
“It’s just temporary. I’ve got plans for bigger and better things.” He unexpectedly grasped her elbow and turned her to face him. “Lina, why did you leave me back on Infernum? I came home one day and you were gone without a trace. I had to learn from your friend Betta that Sara was dead.”
She stared at him, astounded. “Don’t you remember what happened?”
His brows furrowed. “You left.”
“No,” she choked out. “Before then.”
When he continued to look puzzled, she wrestled out of his grasp and stalked to the other side of the room, swallowing past the thick lump constricting her throat. Was it possible that he didn’t even remember his role in Sara’s death?
After taking a long moment to compose herself, she whirled to face Thorne. “You remember that she was sick, right? Very sick?”
Thorne nodded his head slowly. “Yes, but she was getting better. Wasn’t she?”
“Better?” Gods, he didn’t remember. Which meant that, to achieve the closure she so desperately needed, she would have to relive the one most painful memory of her life.
No.
But what choice did she have?
Her body shook with agony at the remembrance of the day that changed everything. Wrapping her arms around her stomach, she swallowed hard…and spoke.
“She had a relapse. The plague had begun to affect her lungs. I called the doctor, and he said she needed more medicine, so you took the last of our money and went out to get it.”
“I…” His brows drew down. “I don’t remember that.”
“I waited over a day for you to return, but you didn’t. I…gods help me, I should have been out there, searching for a way to get her the medicine she needed. I should have done something. But I believed in you. I thought you would come. I waited for you.”
Thorne’s face screwed up with emotion, and he took a step forward. “Lina…”
“No,” she gasped, stumbling back a face paces. She had to finish this. Had to tell the rest of the story.
“She died in my arms, Thorne.” She’d looked so peaceful, so cozy nestled into Lina’s body. As if she merely slept. Lina had thought she was sleeping. Even now she could remember looking down at the beautiful baby in her arms. Smiling at the thought that her little angel was finally getting some rest. Hopeful that she was getting better. But then she’d noticed…
Even sleeping children breathed, and Sara wasn’t.
She’d died, she’d died in her very arms, and Lina hadn’t been able to do a thing to stop it. Hadn’t been able to breathe life back into those tiny lungs, no matter how hard or how long she’d tried.