Stomping back up the stairs, she strode through the shadows veiling her room, bitterness churning her stomach, and flipped on the bathroom light. She should have known once they’d slept together, their relationship would turn out the same with him as it had with every other guy she’d ever fallen for. She’d been stupid to think he was any different. He was male after all, and apparently men were after one thing only—and commitment sure as hell wasn’t on their list.
Gritting her teeth, she yanked her shirt over her head and stripped off her pants. But, damn, she’d been so sure Andy was the exception to the rule. He’d always been there for her. He’d said all the right things and done everything to make her believe he wanted her in his life permanently. He’d promised her, damn it.
She was such a fool. Wadding her clothes into a ball, she chunked them into the hamper. She probably didn’t even have his friendship anymore. Wasn’t the loss of their easygoing relationship the very thing that had held her back initially?
Turning, she caught her reflection in the mirror. A sallow complexion masked her olive skin. Her bright, golden gaze, replaced by hollow, dark eyes with smudges beneath. God, she looked horrible.
“No wonder he ran.” She frowned and twisted the faucet handle.
There was so much she hadn’t said that she wished she could tell him. Change his mind somehow. But she had no idea what words would make him want to stay with her.
Leaning over the sink, she splashed cold water on her face. Maybe her aunt was right, maybe she was cursed. Although, Death couldn’t be the one after her. With her string of miserable, failed romances, all signs pointed to whichever mythological Roman deity was Cupid’s nemesis.
Reaching out, she grabbed the hand towel and patted her skin dry. She’d gone to visit Aunt Nadya first thing after church services as she’d promised. The woman had gone on and on about the Grim Reaper, and how the black magic she’d performed on Ben had backlashed. How instead of her, the repercussions had splashed over onto dear, dear niece. During their conversation, her aunt had even admitted to staying up the entire night before, searching every book she owned for a spell to reverse what she’d done. By the time Calista had left, the old woman had been certain the only way to stop Death was with true love.
She snorted. “Yeah, right.”
The thing was, she’d thought she had found it. But thinking back, the accidents had only occurred during the time she’d been with Andy. Since she’d read his note and finally faced the truth this morning, she hadn’t experienced a single brush with death.
She snatched her nightgown from the hook on the back of the door and tugged the soft fabric over her head. “So much for all the Gypsy hocus-pocus.”
Calista flipped off the bathroom light and padded through the darkness to open her window. She pushed up the bottom half of the double-hung pane, and a warm summer breeze wafted through the screen. Glancing across her yard, she noticed Andy’s house remained dark. Was he still at the restaurant, or had he gone to bed already, leaving her alone to deal with his rejection? Well, if he did happen to be working late, she would hear his return as she had a million other nights.
Biting her bottom lip, she twisted away. God, how pathetic is that? Crossing to her bed, she burrowed beneath the linens, the comforter failing miserably to do its job and, well…comfort her.
Before coming upstairs, she’d checked all the phones in the house to ensure they were working on the off chance she’d been wrong about Andy. They’d been fine. She rolled to her side and glanced at the clock. Twelve-oh-eight. Taking her cell from its cradle on the nightstand, she checked her voicemail and text—again.
No missed calls. No messages.
She slammed the phone to the bed and inhaled a shaky breath. She would not call him or go to his house or pine away for something she could never have. No matter how wonderful he might have seemed, she just…wouldn’t. Shit. Time to accept the facts.
Tears welled, and a sob tore from her lungs. A horrible ache writhed in her chest, squeezing her lungs and forcing her body to curl into a tight ball. Oh God. Unable to ignore the pain stabbing her heart, she let the sorrow of his rejection free and cried until she soaked her pillow with countless droplets of salty misery.
At last, exhaustion shrouded her body, and she drifted on the edge of oblivion. Oh please, let me wake tomorrow and be able to put Andy behind me and move on. But a voice deep within her soul whispered he was the one guy she would never get out of her heart.
She couldn’t breathe. A hooded man with bony fingers stood next to her bed and held a smoky scented cloth over her nose and mouth. Panic raced through her, and she fought to break free. She dug at his arms and kicked at his legs as she struggled against her attacker.