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Then he’s gone, and I’m back in the dreary present.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I fight a chill that runs deeper than any cold.
Turning, I watch as Grant prowls to the front of the car and its open hood. Even with the raised metal in the way, he’s so broad that when he bends over the Corolla’s innards, I can still see his shoulder protruding past it.
Beautiful.
Not even aWelcome home, Ophelia.
But maybe he’s never forgiven me for leaving.
You’re gonna run, Philia? That’s your answer? Fucking running away from Ethan?
Then don’t come back.
It still stings like it did the first time he killed me with those words.
I haven’t seen him since that day.
Until now.
And what a sight for sore eyes I must be, back in Redhaven with my tail tucked between my legs, as miserable and small as if I never left at all.
If he’s the least bit torn up, he doesn’t show it.
Grant fiddles with something inside the car—and his rough, sandpapery voice emerges from behind the hood. “Radiator hose popped.”
“It did not. Ichecked.” I instantly scowl.
“Should’ve checked harder,” he growls. “Damn thing can look like it’s still together, but once the seal breaks you’re not going anywhere, Butterfly.”
Ugh, that nickname.
The big idiot can still cut me open with a single word.
It really is like I was just here yesterday.
To him, I’m still the starry-eyed little sister who doesn’t know what she’s doing, who has to be watched like the unwanted tagalong.
If Ethan were here, he’d smack Grant on the back of the head and tell him to be nicer to the butterfly nerd.
But Ethan’s not here.
Just his ghost, making the silence between us so tense it’s suffocating.
While I’m fighting the bitterness on my tongue, Grant fiddles with something inside the Corolla. Then he straightens and slams the hood shut with a deafeningboom!
The car bounces on its wheels.
“That’ll do you for a few.” He lifts his head, fixing those unreadable mocha-dark hazel eyes on me. “Long enough to get you over to Mort’s. Wouldn’t drive it any farther.”
Thanks, Dad, I start to snap.
All these years without so much as a note by pigeon, and hestillthinks he’s the boss of me.
But I remind myself again that I’m a grown woman now.
Not that little girl.
