Chapter 74 Maeve
MAEVE
I waited until they were all gone to pack my kitchen stuff. It had taken a while — Bram and Remy hadn’t left until after noon — but I’d bided my time in my room, not wanting to see Bram.
Not wanting to second guess my decision.
Now I stood in front of the dining-room table, folding the note I’d written them. When I was done, I shoved it under the jewelry box they’d left me for my birthday.
Then I looked around the loft, wondering why I felt like my heart was breaking. I’d never wanted to be here. It had been part of the Hunt, the fulfillment of a contract.
Nothing more.
Except now I felt bereft, like I was saying goodbye to something beloved, a feeling I knew all too well.
You don’t have to do this, M.
You don’t understand.
Because I’m dead?
Because you never left Chris.
I loved him.
I know. And look where it got you.
Ouch. Jesus, Maeve. Twist the knife why don’t you? Pun intended.
Sorry.
It’s okay.
I could almost feel June by my side, knew what it would feel like to walk into her arms, cry on her shoulder.
I slung my tote over my shoulder and picked up the suitcase and the duffel I’d brought with me to the loft nine weeks earlier.
It was possible I was violating my contract with the Butchers, but that was a chance I was willing to take. I couldn’t stay here any longer. It wasn’t good for me, and I knew nothing good happened when you ignored your mind in favor of your heart.
I had to swallow around the lump in my throat as I headed for the stairs.
Had to force myself not to look back.