“What? Summoned by Jessie?” he asked, obviously picking up on her pent-up emotion about the big-boobed girl with the big smile.

“We were interrupted on the phone by her,” Della explained, trying not to let her emotions leak out. When you didn’t have your shirt on, by the way, and she made sure to comment about it, too! Right then, Della wondered if Jessie had known that Steve had been talking to Della. Had Jessie made the comment on purpose? Damn it, Della hadn’t even thought about that angle, and now it made it even worse.

Steve stood there with a funny expression on his face as if trying to follow the conversation. “There was a patient,” he said. “It’s not like it was something personal.”

“You’re right. You didn’t do anything wrong.” At least Della hoped not. “It doesn’t matter.” She looked out the window, really wanting to leave before she said something else. Something like: Forget me ever meeting your parents. It’s not happening. Anyway, I’ll bet they’d like the doctor’s daughter better. “Look, the reason I came here was to tell you I was leaving. Kylie’s mom should be here anytime. I should go.”

“Damn it, Della! Why are you acting this way? Are you mad because I’m working with Dr. Whitman? This is my education. It’s important.”

“So is finding my family,” she said.

She turned to leave through the window.

He caught her. “Wait.” She could hear in his voice that he was trying to hold back his frustration.

“Wait for what?” she asked, and his eyes tightened with anger.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this earlier,” he blurted out, his tone now tighter, deeper.

“Well, if you’d told me about your parents coming, I would have told you a lot sooner that I couldn’t do it.” Wouldn’t have done it even if I hadn’t been leaving.

He let go of her arm and laced his fingers together behind his neck. His soft brown eyes brightened to an amber color. “I’m not just talking about that. I’m talking about the whole uncle thing. And the funeral-home thing. And someone mentioned that you went to that murdered girl’s funeral. And you were already talking to Derek about your uncle, asking him for help, and you hadn’t even told me. You don’t tell me things. Don’t you trust me?”

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you because you were busy.”

“So you are mad that I’m working with Dr. Whitman?”

It’s the doctor’s daughter I have problems with. “I’m just saying you weren’t here.”

“Don’t give me that, Della. I was here all day Sunday and Monday morning. I saw you at the clinic, and we’ve talked on the phone most nights.” He made a low growling sound and stared up at the ceiling. Then he looked back at her. “It’s happening again, just like it always does. Whenever I get a little bit closer to you, you start pulling back. Why the hell is that?”

She felt her throat tighten. She opened her mouth, but no words would form.

Her phone rang. She yanked it out of her pocket, thankful for a reason to look away from the hurt in Steve’s expression. Kylie’s name filled her phone’s screen, and then she saw the time. It was five minutes after four. She was late.

“I have to go,” she said.

“Fine, go!” he snapped.

She got one leg out the window and looked back. “I’m sorry,” she said. Then she took off before he saw the sheen of tears in her eyes.

But what the hell was she apologizing for? Pushing him away? Not wanting to push him away? For going to Kylie’s? For not wanting to meet his parents? For being afraid to love? Damn it! She was so screwed up!

“Are you okay?” Kylie asked Della thirty minutes into their drive.

“Yeah,” Della lied. Later, she might tell her and Miranda the truth. Though she wasn’t sure what the truth really was, except that she and Steve had their first fight. Sure, they’d bickered before, but this felt different. It felt … it felt like it could be the end.

“Are you still upset about your dad? Or is it about you and Steve?” Kylie asked.

“I’m okay,” she insisted, thinking Miranda’s pushiness was rubbing off on Kylie. Couldn’t she just drop it? Couldn’t she see it hurt too much to talk about?

The pain sitting like a lump of dough in her chest was a not-so-subtle reminder of why she shouldn’t have let her and Steve’s little “thing” go this far. Why she shouldn’t let it go any farther.

Maybe it was best that it ended. Her chest gripped and a big “hell no” seemed to come from her heart. She didn’t want it to end. But she didn’t want it to go further either, did she? She didn’t want to meet his parents, or let herself completely start relying on him.

She tightened her hands in her lap. Confusion bounced around her sore heart and aching head.

Swallowing the tears before they crawled up her nose and filled her eyes, she glanced forward at Miranda, sitting shotgun in the front seat, jabbering away with Kylie’s mom about being a witch. Kylie’s mom had just learned about Kylie’s supernatural talents—about supernaturals in general—and it was clear the woman was still processing the details of her daughter’s life.

“We don’t actually fly around on brooms,” Miranda said to Ms. Galen, “that is such an old wives’ tale. And the first rule we learn is to do no harm. Not that all witches follow that rule. But if they get caught … well, let’s just say it’s not pretty. And if you screw up really bad, the death angels will torch your butt.”

Kylie’s mom looked into the rearview mirror and her green eyes locked on Della. This was like the sixth time Della had caught the woman gaping at her with … suspicion or mistrust. What was up with that?

A possible reason for those wary looks slammed against Della’s brain.

She leaned into Kylie and whispered, “Does your mom know I’m vampire now?”

The chameleon’s expression answered the question before she did. “She came right out and asked me. I had to tell her. I hope that’s okay.”

“Great,” Della said. “She’s freaking afraid of me.”

“No, she’s not,” Kylie whispered. “She’s just … trying to deal with it. I personally think she’s doing really well. I was afraid she’d rescind the invitation.” Kylie flinched as if realizing she’d said the wrong thing. “It’ll be fine, I promise. Remember, I was leery of you at first, too.”

Because I’m a monster. Because my kind go around feeding on people.

“Give my mom a chance, please,” Kylie whispered.

Della let go of a deep emotional sigh. “You sure she’s not going to run a stake through my heart while I’m sleeping?”

Kylie chuckled. “No, but she might take a bath in garlic.” When Della didn’t find the comment humorous, Kylie asked, “Did you and Steve have a fight?”

Della decided denying it wouldn’t do any good. She’d end up telling them, she always did. “Yeah.”

“Was he mad because you were coming here?”

“He was mad about a bunch of stuff.” Della stared out the window at the trees passing by, her heart heavy.

“What kind of stuff?” Kylie asked.

Della glanced up and spotted Kylie’s mom staring at her. Again. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Okay.” Kylie squeezed Della hand. The chameleon must have turned herself into a fae, because her touch was extra warm and comforting.

Della felt the ache in her chest lessen, but no sooner had she relaxed than another chest-tensing thought hit. Chan. Was he involved with a gang? If so, was Chase involved? She needed to figure things out. And quickly.

“Crap,” Kylie muttered under her breath.

“Crap what?” Della muttered back.

Kylie reached up in Della’s hair and pulled something out. It took her a second to realize what it was. Another feather.

Oh, fracking hell! The ghost was back.

Della swallowed a lump of panic down her throat. “I still think it’s here for you or Holiday,” she whispered to Kylie. “It showed up when Holiday and I were at the funeral.”

“Yeah, but you were there,” Kylie whispered back. “And I’ve only seen it hanging out by your room, and I don’t think Holiday has seen it unless you’re around. So I still think it’s your uncle, or maybe your aunt.”

Almost as if the ghost heard her, two more tiny white feathers spiraled past Della’s nose and landed on her lap—her lap and not Kylie’s.

Della knocked them on the floorboard. Didn’t she have enough to deal with already?

Chapter Seventeen

The dang ghost still never showed himself or herself, but Kylie said it was in the car with them most of the ride. Ms. Galen kept turning the heat up and complaining about the weather getting cold too early. About five miles from Kylie’s house, the car warmed up and stayed warm as they pulled into the driveway.

“Does this mean it won’t know where we are?” Della asked as they piled out of Kylie’s car.

“Sorry, when a ghost’s attached to you they seem to have internal GPS. They want you; they find you.”

“That sounds like stalking,” Della said.

“It sort of is,” Kylie said. “Sorry.”

“I love your house,” Miranda said to Ms. Galen as she bounced up the sidewalk in front of them.

As Della admired the two-story home, she reached up and rubbed her temple. She’d been doing that a lot lately. The tiny but persistent headache wouldn’t go away. She wanted to blame it on Aunt Flo, but she had taken leave for the month already.

“Thank you,” Ms. Galen answered. “I’m trying to sell it, but haven’t had any luck.” She glanced at Kylie. “I know she doesn’t want me to move, but it’s too big for me.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you to move,” Kylie said. “I just … I’ll miss it.”

Della considered how she’d feel if her parents sold their house. It would hurt, but nothing compared to how she felt losing the family who still lived there. And after her father’s visit, it really felt as if she’d lost them. For one second, she wondered if faking her death wouldn’t have been easier. Then that little spark of hope that she might have an uncle and even an aunt somewhere flickered to life.

She started walking up the sidewalk to the front porch. The sun hung low, painting the western sky in an array of colors, while darkness worked at chasing it away. A cool wind brushed past and stirred the trees. A few dead leaves cascaded to the ground, reminding Della of feathers.

She leaned back into Kylie. “How long does it usually take before a ghost appears, or tells you what it wants?” Della asked, hanging on to that hope that her uncle or aunt was alive.

“That depends on the ghost,” Kylie said.

Della sighed. She hated waiting. But maybe she wouldn’t have to wait long. The trip to the funeral home could shed some light on things. She looked up at the darkening sky, which seemed to match her mood. She could use some light.

Light that didn’t come with any kind of trouble. If she got Kylie and Miranda in trouble, or God forbid, if they got hurt, she was going to feel bad. Really, really bad.

An hour later, Miranda, Della, and Kylie were on the sofa, delivered pizza on the coffee table, surfing through Netflix looking for a good movie. Della had managed to eat one slice of pepperoni, and was trying to let go of her concern about tomorrow’s visit to the funeral home. But the prickle of worry stayed with her.

Popping off the sofa, she went to the kitchen to grab another soda, hoping to get the aftertaste of the pizza from her mouth. She’d consumed a big glass of blood for lunch today so she wouldn’t need any more until she was back at Shadow Falls on Sunday. The last thing she wanted was for Kylie’s mom to see her drinking it. Who wanted to be looked at with disgust?

Almost as if her thoughts had conjured her, Ms. Galen walked into the kitchen from the opposite hall. She came to an abrupt halt when she saw Della.

“Oh … uh, did you need something?” Ms. Galen said, stumbling over her words.

Fear brightened her eyes, and seeing it hurt. A couple pints of your blood, Della almost blurted out, because Della could tell from her expression that that was what the woman expected her to say. Forcing herself to play nice, she told the truth. “I was just grabbing another soda.”

“They’re right there.” She motioned downward, her feet firmly planted in the doorway, as if she was frightened to get any closer. “In the bottom drawer.”

Della grabbed a diet drink, then looked back at Kylie’s mom. The fear in her eyes seemed stronger, and before she could stop herself she said, “You know I’m not going to hurt you, don’t you?”

Ms. Galen’s face brightened to a nice shade of embarrassed pink. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m being pretty transparent, aren’t I?”

“Afraid so.” Della popped the top, the fizzing sound filled her ears, and she found herself regretting her bluntness. “But I understand it’s hard to accept. And I appreciate you trusting me enough to invite me here.” With her point made, she started out.

“Your mom sounded nice,” Ms. Galen blurted out, as if trying to make peace.

Della turned around. If the woman was willing to try, why shouldn’t she? “Thanks. And thank you for talking to her.”

Ms. Galen toyed with the bottom of her blouse, obviously still nervous. “She doesn’t know, does she? I mean about you being vampire.”