Till Death Do Us Part: A Paranormal Why Choose Romance (Vows Duet Book 1)

Chapter 1

Present Day

The guy sitting across from me on the bus keeps staring.

From what I can see, looking past him like I don’t see him at all, he appears to be homeless. His hair and facial hair are oily and unkempt, and I think there’s even some food stuck in his beard. His clothes are ragged and dirty, and I’m pretty sure the strong body odor I smell is coming from his direction. Though that’s a toss-up—that smell could be any of the other people riding this bus in the summer heat. The man has a backpack, too, propped into the seat next to him. It has seen better days; the rips in the front seams must be from the way it’s packed plum full.

Self-conscious and studiously ignoring his attention, anxiety causes me to worry my bottom lip, my teeth sinking into it with a painful edge that keeps me grounded. Not for the first time today, I wish my dad wasn’t being so unfair about me leaving home. If he wasn’t, he probably could have driven me into the city. Instead, I’m stuck riding the bus because he refused to do anything to help me move out.

I don’t know why he cares, anyway. He’s always acted like my sister and I have been nothing but a burden our entire lives.

I think about Rhea and sigh, a smile lifting the corners of my mouth. It’s been almost two years since I’ve seen my sister. She dipped out the second she hit eighteen and the only reason she looked back was to check on me from time-to-time. She knows what it’s like in our dad’s house—she knows the way he is. I never begrudged her leaving me behind. I understood why she had to leave. Out of the two of us, she suffered the worst from his attention.

Of course, it meant when she left, I ended up taking the brunt of his attention for her, too.

At that, the finger-shaped bruises on my upper arms smart, like the darn things are taunting me. Dad was really mad last night—my last night at home—and the bottle of cheap whiskey he had consumed hadn’t helped any. I was lucky he hadn’t bruised my face. Injuries on the face are harder to hide, even with makeup. You can never quite get the contour right to hide the swelling, stretched skin. He’d only grabbed me by the arms and shook me until my brain was rattling around in my head, screaming in my face until my skin was coated with his whiskey-laced saliva.

Maybe the time alone will do him some good. I hope it will. Maybe it’ll put things in perspective for him. Maybe he’ll realize how wrong he’s been all these years. Maybe he’ll finally get sober.

The man across from me leans forward, bracing his arms on his knees, his eyes still drilling holes into me. “Hey. Little girl,” he rasps.

Despite the spear of unease that flows through me, my politeness won’t allow me to ignore him. “Yes?” I squeak, looking at anywhere but at him.

“You’re cursed.”

I blink, my gaze darting to him, meeting his eyes directly for the first time. They’re so bright blue they appear to glow. “Excuse me?”

“I can see it in your aura.”

I want to scoff, but that would be rude. “Okay,” I say instead, uncertain of what else to say.

I force myself to keep looking at him as his eyes wildly scan over my form. “Not you,” he mutters. “Not you. You’re not the cursed. Not you. But you.”

My fingers find the end of my ponytail, resting on my shoulder, needing to fidget to find a way to get rid of the restless energy that’s building. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I—”

I flinch when a woman—also homeless from the looks of it—suddenly plops down in the seat on the other side of him. “Frank. Leave the girl alone.”

“Annie, she’s cursed,” Frank argues. “She needs to know so she can break the curse. Find her prince.”

Annie gives me an apologetic smile. “You’ve told her now. Leave her be. Come on now. Come sit with me and Trina.”

I realize I’m ogling the entire exchange and quickly look away, not wanting to intrude as Annie shepherds him toward the back of the bus. All the while, he mutters more about curses, princes, and souls. Checking my phone, I see I have another hour before the bus will arrive at the station closest to Rhea’s house. Even though I smile at the thought of getting to live with my sister while I attend the University of Arizona on a full scholarship, Frank’s allegations stay with me, making it disappear as quickly as it came.

Trying to shrug off his words, I text my sister. She hasn’t responded to the text I sent her earlier when the bus left Douglas, but she hasn’t responded.

Hey! Only an hour left! See you soon!

The rest of the bus ride goes by slowly, but no one else bothers me, nor pays me any attention. I lose myself in the music pulsing through my earbuds and the smutty romance book I’m reading through the Kindle app on my phone, trying to forget the strange, ominous vibe caused by Frank’s words.

I realize the bus has parked when people bustle down the aisle past me to leave, making my cheeks pinken with embarrassment. Especially because I’d been at a really graphic scene where the female main character—a high-end escort—is being absolutely ravaged by her love interest. I pray no one saw what I was reading as they walked past. I would die if someone said something.

As soon as the bus aisle is clear, I hop up, slinging my tote bag over my shoulder. I check my phone as I exit, frowning when I see Rhea still hasn’t texted me back. She’s supposed to pick me up, but now I’m just worried that something happened to her. She usually texts me back right away.

I’m sure she’s waiting for me at the pickup area, I tell myself.

Standing in the crowd as two unhappy looking station employees unload luggage from the baggage compartment under the bus, I go up on my tiptoes so I can try to spot my bag. I see it right away, but hang back while I keep an eye on it, not wanting to jostle anyone by pushing through the crowd. There’s only a handful of people left when I can finally step forward without disturbing anyone.

I smile at the older worker, whose eyes widen in surprise as the other continues unloading bags. I lift the pull handle of my suitcase. “Thank you so much. I appreciate you both.”

The younger worker, pulling the last stowed away item, falters. He glances my way and nods, giving me a wary half-smile before hurrying away.

The other worker turns to me with a bright smile on his face. “He’s a little shy,” he explains. “You’re very welcome, though. You have a great day.”

I beam. “You too!”

“Can I get my bag?” a woman snaps at me, pointing at the luggage my own is blocking.

I jerk out of the way. “I’m so sorry.”

She mumbles something, rolling her eyes, and then grabs her bag before stomping away.

I watch her go. “That was rude,” I say, once the woman is out of earshot.

The worker glances my way, surprised again—probably because I’m still standing here like a weirdo. I feel my face flush with embarrassment as the thought crosses my mind.

“That?” he asks with a laugh, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “That was nothing. Not everyone is as nice and happy as you, Sunshine.”

I know I’m really blushing now. “I’m not nice and happy all the time,” I reply, defensive.

He chuckles again. “How old are you?”

I shuffle my feet. “Eighteen.”

Snorting, he shakes his head. “No wonder you’re so full of sunshine. World is wide open for you still. Don’t waste it.”

I nod, serious. “I don’t plan on it.”

His grin is amused as he puts his hands on his hips. “Glad to hear it. You get where you’re going safe, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” I answer automatically. I pull at my suitcase until it tips over so I can roll it, and then raise my free hand. “Have a good day.”

“You too, Sunshine.”

I give him one more parting smile and walk away, my steps hurried with excitement. I can’t wait to see Rhea. It’s been forever.

I step outside of the terminal, eyes scanning for my sister, but I don’t see her or the old car she’d scrounged together the money for before she left home two years ago. I check my phone and see I have no new notifications.

Gnawing on my lip again, I press the button to call her and put my phone to my ear. It rings several times before giving me a message that her voicemail hasn’t been set up. I end the call before it can hang up on me and glance around again, glad that my bus arrived in the afternoon and not late at night at least.

I wait for twenty minutes, alternating calling and texting Rhea, but she never shows or answers me. Worried, I decide to walk, checking the distance on the maps app. It’s only two miles to her house. That’s not too far.

Rolling my suitcase behind me, I head out, letting my phone guide me in the right direction. By the time I’m halfway, according to the app, sweat is rolling down my face and dampening my t-shirt and denim shorts. Lovely Arizona summers—gotta love them. Maybe I should just be grateful I wore tennis shoes and not my flip-flops. Or that I’m in Tucson and not Phoenix. It’d been even warmer.

I finish my water bottle just as I reach Rhea’s street, the app’s pleasant voice information me to turn left. Crumpling the bottle and twisting the lid on so it stays compacted, I grip it tight as I finish my walk. I pause when I reach the house, double checking the address when I see a man leaning against the house. He looks bored.

It’s the right address. Maybe Rhea has a boyfriend?

I wouldn’t blame her—this guy is book boyfriend inspiration worthy. He’s all arm muscles framed by a short-sleeve white shirt and jeans that fit him just right; the kind of jeans that guys who work outdoors wear. Not skinny jeans or something.

I take a steadying breath and then stride forward, pulling my suitcase up the concrete strip that leads from the sidewalk to the front door through a very desolate front yard. It looks like it used to be grass at one point, but it’s all dead and dry, and there’s more dirt than expired foliage now.

The man doesn’t pay me any attention, his eyes fixed on a point far away. Or maybe he’s not even looking at something; just stuck in his own mind. I do that a lot, too.

My wheel catches on a break in the concrete, causing it to thud loudly as it pulls free. The man swings his attention to me, watching me with open curiosity as I march up to where he is. He shifts, so he’s no longer leaning against the wall.

Sheesh, he’s even more muscled than I thought.

Fighting a blush, I swallow down my nerves and smile. “Is this where Rhea lives?” I ask, and he freezes, looking around and behind himself. The way he does it makes me uneasy and I start to babble. “I’m moving in with her. She was supposed to pick me up from the bus stop, but she didn’t show. I’m really worried about her. Are you her boyfriend? Do you know where she is?”

I groan inwardly, clamping my mouth shut so I don’t continue with the word vomit.

He stares at me. “Me?” he asks after a moment, before I can recover and try to embarrass myself again.

“Yes?” I say warily. “You’re the only one here?”

He doesn’t stop staring, but instead of making me uncomfortable like Frank did, it’s making me feel all sorts of warm feelings I shouldn’t have for Rhea’s boyfriend.

Shoot.

I clear my throat, holding out the hand not strangling my empty water bottle. “Let me start again,” I chirp. “I’m Rhea’s sister, Nova.”

He doesn’t take my hand, his fingers twitching as he keeps arms crossed. “Jimmy,” he answers softly. “I didn’t know Rhea had a sister.”

Ouch.

He must see the hurt written on my face because he steps forward, finally unfolding those arms. “I just don’t know her…well,” he says, lifting his hands in a placating gesture.

I furrow my brow. “Then why are you here?”

The smile on his face while he studies me is so full of sorrow it makes my chest hurt. “I’m not sure yet.”

I eye the front door. “Are you…you’re not stalking her, are you?” I ask, and I know I sound worried.

A laugh bursts out of him, and it’s such a melodic thing that it makes me break into a smile. “I’m not stalking your sister, Nova,” Jimmy says, still chuckling. There’s a hint of irony in his tone, and I wonder why.

I glance at the door again. “Is she here?”

He hesitates before nodding. “Yes. She’s sleeping.”

I raise a single brow, putting one hand on my hip. “If you’re not stalking her, how do you know she’s sleeping?”

Jimmy’s eyes dance with amusement. “Long story,” he answers, distracted. “You can knock. I’m sure she’ll wake up if you pound on the door hard enough. Door is locked.”

“Oh. You’re not coming in?”

His expression loses its levity. “Nah.” He shrugs. “I’ll probably take off.”

I can’t stop myself before I blurt out, “Will I see you later?”

My breath stutters to a stop when he steps up to me and lifts his hand. It glides around the curve of my head to my chin without a single brush of his fingers on my skin. A prickling sensation travels down my neck, under where his hand is hovering. For the briefest moment, his presence feels so familiar. It’s as if I know what it would feel like to have him touch me. Which is ridiculous.

Jimmy jerks his hand away, like he might have heard my thoughts. “I guess we’ll just have to see.”

He steps around me, sending my heart racing as he walks away. Refusing to look over my shoulder at him, I yank my suitcase the rest of the way to the door. I pound on it hard, as he suggested, and wait. A few seconds go by, until I can’t help myself anymore.

I glance over my shoulder, but Jimmy is nowhere to be seen, already gone before I can get one last look.