"What about Nash?"
The mention of the name makes Isolde's bravado crumble for a second. Her face falls as a shadow of deep longing crosses her features. Nash, the mate who used to look at her as if she were the only light in the world, has now taken avoiding her as a personal task.
"I sent him a text," Isolde says, voice suddenly melancholic.
She picks up a stray ribbon from the floor, twirling it around her finger. "I told him where I'm going. I told him he doesn't owe me anything, but that the door is open. It's up to him if he comes or not. I won't ask him to leave his life for me... but I hope he does."
"He will," Heidi says with a conviction she feels in her gut. "That man would follow you into the mouth of a demon if you asked."
"We'll see," Isolde says, though a tiny spark of hope glimmers in her eyes.
