His number was still in her contacts. She could call him right now. Could hear his voice. Could tell him that she'd been thinking about him, that she wondered if he was okay, that she wanted to hear that he'd survived Dimitri's attack.
Isabella reached over and picked up the phone. Unlocked it. Found his contact information.
Her thumb hovered over the call button.
She could do this. Could make the call. Could hear his voice telling her whatever lies or truths he would tell her.
But then what? Then he would know she was thinking about him. That she was still caught, still unable to move forward, still trapped in whatever this was between them.
No. Don't call him. Let him go. Get your head straight.
She set the phone back on the nightstand and turned away from it, pulling the covers up over herself.
