Della entered her bedroom, turned, grabbed the doorknob, and glanced back at her best friends. Concern and worry filled their eyes, but Della couldn’t deal with it now.
“We need to talk,” Kylie said.
“No.” Not this time. She couldn’t say it. Didn’t want to think about it. “I just want to be left alone!” She slammed the door.
When she turned, she saw the book on the bed. The yearbook she’d gotten to help find her dad’s twin. It hadn’t been there when she walked out. How had…?
The ghost? Could she have…?
And just like that, her mind started connecting the dots.
One dot.
Two dots.
Three.
“I’m sorry.” Kylie’s voice came from behind her with the click of the door being opened. “I don’t care what you say, you don’t need to be alone. You had a vision, didn’t you? I know how they can make you feel.”
“We’re best friends.” Miranda’s voice echoed behind her. “We don’t slam doors on each other.”
Della swung around, hearing what they said, but lost in her own thoughts. “They’re twins. It might not have been him.”
“What?” Kylie and Miranda asked at the same time.
“My uncle wasn’t dead then. He was just vampire. So it could have been him, my father’s twin, who I saw standing over her.”
“What could have been your uncle?” Kylie came closer. Her blue eyes filled with compassion.
“I was dead. I don’t know who I was. I could have been my aunt. And my uncle could have killed her.”
“Your aunt?” Kylie said. “So Miranda was right, and your aunt is the ghost?”
Della shook her head. “I don’t know. She had so much blood on her face.”
“I’m sure I was right,” Miranda said. “Who else could it be?”
“I said I don’t know for sure!” Della snapped.
Kylie stood there as if thinking. “Did she tell you how she and Natasha are connected?”
“No.” Della fought the sting in her sinuses. “I saw her dead. I saw a man who looked just like my father standing over her with bloody knife.”
“And you think it was your uncle?”
“It has to be,” Della said. “It has to be.”
* * *
Della spent the rest of the night doing more tossing and turning than sleeping. Not that it surprised her. The vision had been just as mind reeling as her first FRU visit, when she’d seen two dead bodies. She’d get to sleep and be jarred awake by the image of her father—no, her uncle—holding the bloody knife.
It had to be her uncle. Believing that made it almost acceptable. Forget that she’d had grand hopes of finding said uncle. She’d give up having a family member who was vampire, who understood her and loved her. She’d toss all that away before she would believe her father could kill.
Della rolled over again. From her window she could see a sliver of sky slowly growing pink with the rising sun. A new day. A better day, she hoped. By the time that light had gotten one shade brighter, she heard the footfalls.
Footfalls walking toward her cabin … her window. Only one person visited her window on a regular basis. One person who said he didn’t want to say good-bye in person and who’d texted a sad face.
Since the vision last night, she’d put all the hurt of Steve leaving in a tight pocket and buried it in her heart. But that sound. Those familiar footsteps—both the pain and pleasure of everything Steve was in her life danced on her heart.
Before Della could decide whether to run and hide or let him come inside and give him an ass whooping, his sad face appeared at her window. She stood up and gripped her hands at her sides. She wanted to scream, to laugh, and to cry all at once.
He pushed open the window and leapt in as if he belonged here. Belonged in her bedroom and in her life.
And damn it, no damn him, because she wasn’t sure that he didn’t.
Chapter Twenty-one
Steve took a step toward her. Della took one step back. Behind him, the rising sun had turned the sky purple. “You said—”
“I couldn’t do it.”
“Couldn’t leave?” She held her breath, didn’t blink, even her heart stopped beating as she waited and hoped he’d say she was right. But then what? a voice inside her said. What about Chase?
“No, I couldn’t go without saying good-bye. But leaving is going to be hell.”
He moved forward and slipped his warm hands around her waist. Slowly, he pulled her against him and she didn’t resist. Couldn’t. The thought of kicking his ass was yesterday’s news.
He didn’t kiss her, just held her. Her head came to rest on that special spot on his chest. The one she claimed belonged to her. His smell, a tangy, earthy scent mixed with the aroma of fresh wind, filled her senses.
She breathed it in greedily. Tears formed in her eyes.
When he pulled back, even his eyes were misty. “I want you to know that no matter what happens, I will never regret what we were. What we had. And if I lose you, you will always be the one who got away that I’ll never forget.”
He stopped and looked up at the ceiling for one second. Two. Three.
He inhaled and his breath sounded shaky. Or was that hers?
“Promise me,” he said, looking back at her. “Promise me that you won’t do something stupid and get yourself killed. Promise me that you’ll stop letting your parents’ ignorance hurt you so much. You don’t deserve that. Promise me that before you fall in love with Chase, you’ll remember that I loved you first.”
That’s when the need to whip his ass came back!
She hit his chest with her palm. He stumbled back, but remained standing. “Why did you make me care about you when you knew you were leaving? You could have just left me alone! I wouldn’t be hurting now! Why?”
He grabbed her and kissed her then. His lips tasted warm, tasted like Steve—so sweet, but oddly salty. Perhaps from her tears, and maybe even his. Before she knew it, way before she wanted it, the kiss ended. She opened her eyes. He was gone. She saw several tiny bubbles floating in the air. Then she spotted the bird, a peregrine falcon perched on her windowsill.
Looking almost regal, the bird bowed his head at her then leapt up and flew away. With him, he took a part of her heart. And she wasn’t sure she’d ever get that part back.
* * *
Della heard Miranda and Kylie leave in time for the morning meal. Della skipped breakfast and the campmate hour. She managed to pull herself together enough to go to her first-period class. Math.