Page 59 of The Vampire's Mate

“I have work.”

“I know you don’t go to Harvard, but do I need to pull up the definition of ‘vacation’ for you?” Hannah scoffed. “Something tells me your vampire boss-slash-boyfriend will understand.”

I had to admit that the prospect of getting out of town for a couple days sounded appealing. Carlos snuffled on the other couch, and Hannah followed my line of sight. “I’ve got him. I promise. Besides, you don’t have to go very far.” She gestured around the house. “Just get out of all this for a little while.”

Losing the energy to argue further, I stood. “You’re right.”

“I know.”

I went to my bedroom, ignoring the evil laughter that trailed behind me.

Chapter 21

It only tooka couple hours to arrange to be out of town for the weekend. Shi, being the amazing person they were, agreed to cover my shifts. I expertly dodged their questions about what was wrong and if I was okay, managing to end the call without giving too much away.

I heard Hannah talking softly to Carlos in the other room while I packed a small bag. I’d have to shop for food, so I could always buy anything I forgot.

By that evening, I was pestering Hannah with last-minute questions. I was haunted by the memories of what happened last time I left her alone in my house, but Hannah wasn’t fazed at all. Kian had brought her supplies to stay for a few days and after he left for work, she changed into a pair of fuzzy pajamas and curled up on the couch, Carlos under her legs and a book in her lap. He’d hardly moved from his spot the entire day.

I paused with my hand on the doorknob, rethinking this whole thing. “This feels like a really bad idea,” I said. “Maybe I should stay. I can hang out at home for the weekend.”

“Absolutely not.” Hannah set her book down and rose from the couch, charging across the room. She flung the front door open, admitting a particularly bitter gust of wind. She all but shoved me out the door. “Go!”

“You’ll call if you need anything?”

“Of course I will. If you don’t leave right this second…”

“Okay, okay. I’m going.” I stepped forward to give her a hug and press a kiss to her hair. Under her relentless stare, I made my way to my car. Hannah didn’t close the front door until I was out of the driveway.

An hour later, I swear the only song saved to my phone was “Must Have Never Met You,” and I was listening to it for about the tenth time. I cursed and slammed my palm against the steering wheel. Well, if Luke Combs was that determined for me to hear it, then I guess it was time to feel the suck.

Too bad that came with blurry vision. I made it to a red light and pressed my fingertips into my eyes, willing the burning to stop. I still had a long drive ahead of me; I’d never make it if I gave into the tightness in my chest.

Okay, fine—the drive wasn’t that long. But when I already felt like jumping out of my skin, another half hour felt like forever. I’d never been the best at sitting still for long periods of time, much less when I felt like a piece of my heart was missing.

The farther I drove, the worse the ache became. I had to work hard for each breath. Each exit I passed, my hand itched to hit the signal and turn back to Salem. I rubbed my chest, but it was pointless. I had a niggling feeling in the back of my mind about what that stupid organ wanted, and that thought only fueled my fire to keep going—if only to prove a point.

I hadn’t been to Cape Cod since I was a kid. Mom and Dad kept a small beach house for those rare occasions when Florida was too perfect and they needed a reminder of how wet and gloomy New England could be. Truthfully, I wanted to go farther. I was seconds away from booking a flightto Vegas, but with the way I ached to turn around with only an hour’s difference between me and James, I wasn’t sure I’d survive such a distance.

The cold was relentless. The closer I got to the Cape and the open water, the more frigid it became. Still, I cracked my window to get a taste of the fresh ocean air. The temperature inside the car plummeted, but I was too stubborn to acknowledge it.

Finally reaching my exit, I stopped at the light and rested my head back against the seat, growling when my bundle of curls prevented me from relaxing. I yanked at the hair tie containing them, tears pricking my eyes again when my hair only got more tangled.

My plan was to head straight into town for groceries, but the knot in my hair was the final straw. I wasn’t about to suffer insubordination from my own goddamn hair; it needed to go—immediately. I drove down the deserted roads on the outskirts of town until I reached my family’s beach house.

It had been decades since I’d seen it, but the navy shutters and pale gray shale siding looked exactly how I remembered. I swallowed against the tightness in my throat, stopping at the breaker to make sure the house had power. It would no doubt be colder inside than out until the heater got going, but I’d tolerate it for as long as possible.

At the simple act of opening the front door, nostalgia swept away the hollow feeling in my heart. When the heating hummed to life, I made my way to the kitchen. It didn’t take much rummaging through the drawers to find what I wanted: scissors.

I flipped the lights on as I moved down the hall to the bathroom. Though I didn’t need them; I knew this house like the back of my hand, and in all the years I’d been gone, it hadn’t changed a bit. Sure, appliances had been updated—and since my momcouldn’t leave things alone for very long, the decor had been switched up more than once over the years.

I didn’t overthink what I was doing. I cut the hair tie out, not caring that a chunk of my hair came with it. In fact, it feltgood. So I kept going. If a lock of hair brushed my shoulders at all, I deemed it too long and chopped it. Piece after piece dropped to the floor, hair littering the sink and counter in front of me. When I finally finished and set the scissors down, I felt like I could take a complete breath again. I sighed, running my hand through the shortened strands and looking in the mirror.

And it looked… horrible. I could only laugh at myself. I wasn’t sure what I expected to see, but the hack job seemed like another metaphor for my life at the moment. It needed to be fixed, so I set out in search of a broom to clean up my mess. A rumble from my stomach reminded me that I needed to stock some groceries as well.

Leaving the house to heat up, I pulled on my jacket and drove into town. Most of the touristy shops were closed for the off season, but I passed an open barber shop, laughing at the sign in the window.

“We fix home haircuts.”

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