Page 43 of Entwined Hearts

I see Kabir’s gaze lift to the rearview mirror and land on me, but he doesn’t say anything.

Jo catches him looking and turns. “I thought maybe you were falling asleep.”

“No,” I reply, my voice hard.

“You okay?” Jo asks.

No, I think as an angry snarl threatens at the corner of my lips.

A look of compassion fills her eyes. “I’m sure he’ll call to explain what happened.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, Anya,” Kabir says with a shrug.

Images of Colby and me in the back of his truck play in my mind like a movie. I relive the sweetness of his caresses, searching for any clue that it was all some elaborate act. But it hurts too much because I realize it’s probably over and he’ll never touch me like that again.

A sharp, tight pain seizes my middle. I curl into myself.

He doesn’t want you, that voice says.

I distract myself with the details of my schedule for the next few months. The training I plan to do. The handful of climbs I have my eye on once I move to the Valley.

When Jo and Kabir drop me off at my empty house, the emotions I’d been holding inside come rushing out since they no longer have an excuse to stay there. At the sight of the coffee table where Jake sat every morning, poring over his Baffin Island project, tears start to burn my eyelids. Sobs rattle through my chest when I see the empty spot on the kitchen counter where Jake used to leave out his boxes of tea. By the time I get to the bed with its single pillow, I’m gasping and choking.

And then I’m in the shower, trying to scrub all traces of Colby and the California dust off my skin. I stay there until the water runs cold, and I have no more tears to shed.

* * *

Aknock on my door the next morning makes me jump out of bed before I’m fully awake. I stand there trying to figure out if I’ve missed something—a breakfast date? A climbing trip? Then I remember Colby.

Hurriedly, I pull on shorts and a t-shirt, then race to the door. But it’s not Colby.

“Okay, start talking,” Marisa says as she steps past me into my kitchen.

I take a moment to put my memories in place, locking the hard ones away.

“I tried calling,” Marisa says, spinning around. Her expression narrows. “Gawd, you look like hell.”

I hug myself to keep from crying.

“Sorry,” she says, looking away. “Jo texted me last night.”

I shuffle to the kitchen, my brain going suddenly into survival mode, meaning coffee.

“Here, let me do that,” she says, her voice softer now.

In moments, she has the coffeepot humming. I watch from the edge of the counter. All night, I relived the feel of Colby’s hands on me and the way he made me feel. Had he meant it when he offered to go three hours out of his way to drive me home? Or had it been some kind of trick?

“First off, are you okay?” Marisa asks.

I shrug.

“Second, has he called?”

I shrug again.

“Where’s your phone?”

When I glance toward the bedroom, Marisa heads quickly toward it. Ten seconds later, she returns, her eyes dark.

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