A Shadow of Guilt - By Abby Green Page 0,65

anything good, solid, dependable. The awful chasm of loss.

That night in the hospital when for a moment—Valentina shut it down. She couldn’t bear for him to see that in her eyes now. The guilt she still felt.

She was standing on the edge of that chasm of loss and pain all over again and she knew she wasn’t brave enough to take the leap, to lay herself bare. Her heart spasmed once, painfully. She could feel it contracting in her chest, withering.

She closed her mouth and shook her head minutely in answer to some question that Gio hadn’t even asked out loud. The flare of hope died in his eyes, and something died inside her.

Gio turned away from her and picked up the towel from the ground and walked back to the stall. Without turning around he just said, ‘The vet is due here soon. Just go, Valentina. We’re done.’

Valentina couldn’t move though. She was rooted to the spot. She saw Gio’s hands come up to the stall posts and grip them so tight that his knuckles shone white. ‘Valentina, for the love of God, just. go.’

Finally, she could move and Valentina whirled around on the spot before rushing from the stables. Her throat was burning and her eyes were swimming. She almost knocked down the vet, who was just walking away from his car.

When she got into her car it took her an age to start it up because her hands were shaking so much and when she drove out of Gio’s castello she had to pull over into a layby where she doubled over with the grief and pain. As she wept and hugged her belly she told herself that this was better, this had to be better than loving and losing all over again, because if she loved and lost Gio … she’d never recover.

Three weeks later …

Valentina looked at herself in the cracked mirror of her tiny bathroom in Palermo. She was pale and wan, dark shadows under her eyes. And her eyes … they looked dead. Valiantly she pinched her cheeks as if that could restore some colour but it faded again just as quickly.

She felt empty and her body was one big ache of loss. She sighed deeply. This wasn’t meant to be so painful. The choice she’d made when she’d stood in front of Gio three weeks before … Her mouth twisted at herself. It hadn’t been a choice. It had been a deeply ingrained reflex action to protect herself. She was a coward. The worst kind of coward.

Gio. Valentina’s hands tightened on the sink—just his name was causing a physical pain in her belly. She’d been terrified she’d see him yesterday when her parents had been brought to a private clinic in Palermo, so that her father could continue his convalescence closer to home.

But it hadn’t been Gio who’d come to make sure everything was OK; it had been an assistant, the same assistant who had taken over informing Valentina what was happening. When Gio hadn’t shown up, the mixture of relief and pain had been almost crippling.

Her mother had taken one look at her and pulled her aside. ‘Valentina—’

And Valentina had cut her off, afraid that the maternal concern would undo her completely. ‘Mama, please … don’t.’

But her mother had ignored her and said gently, ‘Valentina, talk to him. He deserves that much at least.’

Valentina stood up straight. Did Gio deserve that? Did he deserve to hear what she had to say? To hear the awful shameful secret she’d kept secret for so long? The secret her mother knew because she’d witnessed the moment when—Valentina bit her lip so hard that she tasted blood.

For the first time in weeks, Valentina felt a sense of purpose. She would tell Gio … everything. And then if he still wanted her to leave, she would go and perhaps one day this awful yawning ache in her heart would ease.

A couple of hours later Valentina pulled up in the staff car park of the Corretti racetrack. When she got out she asked someone if they knew where Gio was and they directed her to the training ground.

When she got there she could see Gio in the training enclosure. One or two people were gathered around, watching him at work.

The horse pranced skittishly but Gio held the reins firm and murmured low soothing words. Valentina felt weak, her eyes automatically devouring his tall broad form. He looked thinner, leaner. His hair looked messier, as if he hadn’t