Page 145 of Thin Lines (Donati Bloodlines 2)

He must have had it when he was run off the road.Apparently, his vehicle had flipped seven times before coming to a stop on itsroof at the bottom of a steep embankment. How he survived, she didn’t know.

Emma pulled the poker chip from her jeans pocket. Sheheld it tightly for a second, and then she replaced her hand with the pokerchip. She closed his fingers around the item, hoping that when he woke up, hewould know she had been there.

It killed her, but she had to go.

She couldn’t stay.

“I’m sorry, Cal,” she whispered.

Emma kissed two fingers, and pressed them to hischeek.

Her heart hurt.

It was constant.

Blinding.

Deafening.

She didn’t want to feel like this.

“I love you, Calisto. I love you.”

Two more days passed by in a deadly silence.

It was a cold quiet.

A stillness and hush that came with no peace, and noanswers.

Emma woke up alone. She slept alone. She walked thehalls of her home alone.

On the third morning, she stared at her reflection inthe mirror and cleaned another round of tear stains from her cheeks. It wasn’tlike she wanted to get out of bed and do anything, but she didn’t have much ofa choice. Every night, she set Midnight up in the kitchen in a large kennel. Hewas slowly getting used to holding his bladder for long enough to make it to themorning.

Emma didn’t want to ruin his training with hersadness.

He was just a pup.

And he needed her.

Throwing on something suitable to wear outside, shequickly made her way downstairs and to the kitchen where her pup would bewaiting with his fluffy wiggles and his tiny tail. Midnight was one small bitof happiness in her sad world.

And yet again, it was something Calisto had given her.

The moment Emma rounded the hallway and stepped intothe kitchen entryway, her heart dropped into her stomach, and the bile spilledon the back of her tongue.

Affonso sat at the kitchen table, glaring at the puphe was holding by the scruff of the neck. Poor little Midnight wiggled andyelped in all his eight inches of length. He twisted and turned in Affonso’s hold,his sharp little whines and barks having no effect on the man.

Affonso kept glowering at the dog.

Apparently, Emma’s entrance had not gone unnoticed.

“What on earth is this creature?” Affonso asked.

Emma swallowed back the sickness in her throat. Shehad hoped he would at least call to let her know when he would be arrivinghome, but he hadn’t. Obviously.

The shock finally wore off.

“He’s my puppy,” Emma said. “He’s not a creature.Don’t hold him like that, you’ll hurt him.”