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“I know. It’s weird. Whether I’m cooking or watching TV, the feeling just pops up at the most random times.”
“You’re not one to be paranoid, sweetheart. Maybe we should make an appointment with a therapist. You’ve been through a lot the past three years, and talking about it could be good for you.”
I let out a chuckle. “No, thanks. I’m not spilling my guts to some stranger. Talking to you is all the therapy I need.”
“Maybe you should invite Oakley and Hallie over. You haven’t seen them in a while,” Dad mentions.
There’s a reason I haven’t seen them. They stopped coming to the hospital when things got too hard for them to handle.
Not ready to think about how my friends abandoned me in my darkest hour, I mutter, “I don’t think so.”
Dad’s eyes flick to me again. “Did something happen between you and them?”
I shake my head and glance out of the window. “Our lives just went in different directions. It happens.”
He’s quiet for a moment before saying, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
“It happens.” Leaning forward, I turn on the radio and adjust the volume so the music isn’t too loud.
Just as Dad pulls away from a traffic light, I relax against the seat again and glance out the window.
There’s a black car to our right, and with the windows rolled down, I get a glimpse of the man in the back seat.
Recognition slams hard into my gut, but a second later, the car turns up a side street, and I can’t see the man anymore.
I’m dead sure that’s the man I dreamed about the night after I got the transplant.
I’d recognize those hazel eyes anywhere.
As the car drives away, I realize it’s a Bentley.
Is it the same one I saw at the cemetery?
Not even a minute later, I’m second-guessing myself.
Maybe it was just déjà vu?
Chapter 10
Renzo
Sitting in my living room, I watch the lifestream from the cameras I planted in Davies’ mansion.
I bring the tumbler of whiskey to my lips and take a sip, my eyes glued to Skylar, where she’s blow-drying her hair.
She’s physically changed over the past three weeks. Her face isn’t gaunt anymore, and her skin has a healthy glow. With the weight she’s gained, she’s gone from pretty to strikingly beautiful.
She’s sitting at her dressing table, facing the camera, and when I look into her clear blue eyes, it feels as if she can see me.
Her movements slow down, and with a frown forming on her forehead, she switches off the hairdryer.
She glances around her, then tugs her bottom lip between her teeth before murmuring, “This is getting insane. There’s no one there.”
The corner of my mouth lifts in a predatory smirk. “Oh, I’m here.”
Brushing her shoulder-length ginger hair with hard strokes, she says, “I better stop seeing ghosts everywhere, or Dad’s going to drag my ass to the nearest therapist.”
When she places the brush on the table, she stares into the mirror and lets out a sigh.
