Six heads snapped up as the sound of a baby's cry pierced down from upstairs.
Michaela gave a huge sigh of relief. The baby had arrived, alive. Thank God.
Sebastian sagged against the sofa in relief, and hugged his sleeping daughter close.
Diego and David eyed each other warily, their joy more guarded.
“Do you think Diana’s okay?” David asked.
“She’s fine. So's the baby,” Michaela said, feeling the push of their life forces through the fragile connection created by Diana’s single feeding. She rubbed at her wrist as it tingled with remembered pain.
“Are you okay?” Jesus asked her, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder.
She glanced at him, at the caring on his face, and it was her undoing.
“I have to get out of here. I've wasted enough time tonight,” she snapped angrily and marched toward the door, fearing the roil of emotions in her gut— relief and joy, worry and guilt—would make her do something insane like break down and sob.
Jesus followed and grabbed hold of her arm to stop her as she reached the door. “What's going on, Michaela? What's wrong?”
She looked past him at the close-knit group gathered in the living room, then up the stairs toward the bedroom. “What isn’t, J? I don't belong here. I shouldn't be involved with any of this.”
Jesus narrowed his eyes. With an angry sweep of his arm, he said, “You mean any of this friendship and family? Any of this love and caring?”
Beneath those words were the ones he hadn't spoken—With me, or anything we have together?
“I can't care, J. It's not who I am. What I am.” She pulled free of his grasp and rubbed at her wrist again, drawing his attention.
“Why did you let her feed, then? Why did you save her, if you don't care?” He took hold of her wrist, but not to possess. His touch was tender and he lightly trailed his thumb across the already healed, but still sensitive, bite marks on her flesh.
“Because I'm a fool, J. I've gotten all wrapped up in all of this,” she said mimicking the sweep of his arm with hers. “I've gotten all wrapped up in you,” she grudgingly admitted, but not for the reasons he might think.
He cradled her cheek, his touch so tender and loving, her heart ached with what she had to do.
“I love you, Michaela. I haven't said it because I know how hard our relationship is for you to accept, but I think you know how I feel.”
Her heart broke with his words, and wept blood as if it had been stabbed. “I'm sorry, J, but I don't belong here. I don't belong with you. What I've done has consequences. Deadly ones. And I can't bring them down on you, or on them,” she said with a final glance back at Diana’s gathered friends and family.
She took a step back, ready to run again, but he held her firm. “You are not alone anymore, Michaela. Everyone here would do for you what you just did for Diana and the baby. Don't throw away something that precious.”
She pulled at his grasp and he let her go. Rising on tiptoe, she brushed a good-bye kiss across his lips and whispered, “I'm sorry, J.”
Before he could utter a word to stop her, she fled out the door.