She nodded, giving him that much. But if he wanted her to say it was okay—okay that he’d pushed his way through her guard, gotten her to care about him, all the while knowing he was going to leave—well, that wasn’t okay!

A month ago, she could have let him go and not hurt so much, if only he’d let her be. If only he hadn’t pushed his way into her nightly runs. Into her life. Into her heart.

He started talking and she had to concentrate to hear his words, because on the inside all she could hear was her heart breaking. “The classes could last from three weeks to six months,” he said, “depending on how things go. There is a chance that I could be accepted full-time, and that would mean four years, but that’s a very small chance.” His eyes grew wet with emotion and the knot in her throat doubled.

No matter why he was leaving, or if he was right or wrong, it was still hurting him. But was that her fault? He’d been the one initiating the kisses on all those late-night runs.

But now she saw the raw pain in his eyes. And damn it, she still cared. Cared because he was hurting.

A bolt of achiness shot right to her chest. How could his pain hurt her more than her own?

She wanted to fall right there on the ground and sob. No, not just sob, but beg him not to go. Beg him to understand the whole bond thing when she didn’t understand it herself. How unfair was that?

“I imagine I’ll be back in a few months,” he said. “Maybe … maybe while I’m away you can…” He stared down at his feet for a second. “You need to figure out exactly what this bond thing is, and what it isn’t. Maybe then we can … see how things stand.”

She didn’t know what to say. But those damn “maybes” hurt. Hurt too much to think, much less to try to form words.

Her phone rang and she knew it was Burnett telling her it was time to leave.

She didn’t even answer it. “I have to go,” she said, and she did. In one leap, she was at the top of the trees. She left the stillness of the lake. She left Steve.

Would he even come and say good-bye? Or was this good-bye?

She heard him call her name, but this time, she didn’t look back.

Chapter Fifteen

Kylie and Miranda sat ready, waiting and worried on the cabin porch. As she moved up the stairs, Della saw leftover tears in Miranda’s eyes. A watery mist, much like the one Della would’ve had if she hadn’t taken a few seconds to wipe away the evidence.

Della studied the pain in Miranda’s eyes. Had she spilled to Kylie about Perry leaving? Probably.

Della would have loved to grab another Diet Coke and commiserate with the witch, or maybe even find some anger at her for keeping secrets, but she didn’t have that luxury. And her emotional bank account was already overdrawn.

The call had been from Burnett, and he’d told her to be at his office in fifteen minutes. She had exactly ten minutes now to clean her face a little more and to bury her emotional havoc.

Stopping in front of her two friends, she said, “Burnett called and I have no time to chat. Sorry.”

“But you’re upset. You need to talk,” Miranda spouted out as new tears pooled in her large green eyes. Eyes that showed just as much concern for Della as they did for her own pain.

“I’m fine,” Della insisted. She started to stomp off, then stopped and looked back at Miranda, who’d stood up to stare at Della with a frown. “And you’ll be okay, too.”

Miranda nodded. “We’ll get through this together, right?”

“Right,” Della said, and because she didn’t have a choice, she let the witch hug her—for a second. Then she ran inside and shut her bedroom door and let herself have a mini pity party.

Three minutes to spare, she lit out of her cabin door—waving at her two best friends, but not giving them time to say anything. Guilt for leaving Miranda in her crisis made her ascent slow, but Kylie was with Miranda, she told herself. And Kylie excelled at consoling. The chameleon always knew what to say, while Della always said the wrong thing.

Besides, burying all that raw pain had been hard, keeping it buried was going to be a bitch. Talking about it to her best friends would only make it harder. Heck, being around Chase would be tougher yet. But she would give it all she had. She had to. Her full-blown breakdown could come later. Commiserating with Miranda could come later. Natasha’s problem—facing death—made Della’s and her roommate’s issues look small. And that’s what Della needed to focus on, before it was too late.

*   *   *

Burnett informed them that Derek hadn’t found any pictures of either of the girls on any of the social media sites. Which seemed odd. And after a rule-spouting, one-sided conversation from Burnett about safety and making their eight o’clock curfew, Della followed Chase into the parking lot to a bright blue car. Burnett had insisted they travel in cars during the light of day. He must have told Chase when he called him, because this was the same car that had been parked at his cabin.

Chase hit the clicker to unlock the vehicle. Della noted the model of the car this time. Camaro. She slid into the soft leather front passenger seat that screamed “expensive” right along with the car’s name.

She almost stepped on a large bag on the floorboard.

“Sorry,” he said. “I brought my camera. I can put it in the back.”

“It’s fine. I’ve got plenty of foot room.”

When Chase settled behind the wheel, she stared straight ahead. Those words had been the first she’d spoken to him.