And some part of me knows no matter what he won’t just let me walk away. He will hunt me down. He would do it even if I wasn’t pregnant.

So why is Abel helping me? Why risk it? Why when he must know Santiago will win. He always does.

I blink away from my reflection as the microwave dings. I’m not hungry anymore but I take the lasagna out and force myself to eat it, burning my tongue on the too-hot sauce.

I just need some time to think. To figure this out. Make a plan.

Because I have no doubt Santiago will come for me and I have to be ready for him when he does.

37

Ivy

I think about what Abel said, that it’s Dad’s house. Dad doesn’t have a house apart from the one we lived in.

Although I remember the picture in his wallet from when I was little. The beautiful woman. The one I didn’t know.

Was my dad having an affair and keeping this house for that affair?

In addition to the living and dining rooms and the kitchen on the first floor is a small office. There’s no light in there, though, and the windows are boarded up, so I leave it alone.

Upstairs are three small, sparse bedrooms. Only one has a proper bed in it. I guess it’d be the master. There’s one bathroom with a tiny shower. On the shelf is a worn-down bar of soap, and under the sink is a package of men’s razors and shaving cream.

The two bedrooms are empty except for two twin-size mattresses laid on the floor of each. But if they’ve been used, it’s very gently. In the small linen closet in the hallway, I find folded sheets in pinks and yellows and a couple of towels. Nothing fancy. More leftover things picked up here and there, but everything smells clean at least.

I carry the sheets into the master to make the bed, but I keep thinking about Dad. I sit down on the edge of it and look across to the chest of drawers. Leaving the sheets on the bed, I get up and go to it, opening the first drawer. I find it empty, as I expect. Same with the second.

The third one is jammed, and when I manage to tug it out, I almost fall backward from the force and hear something clatter to the back of the drawer. I’m more careful when I pull it farther, and for a moment, I’m not sure if what I’m seeing is right.

My heart races as a chill covers my skin with goose bumps.