Chapter 35
BLAIRE
Iwake up cold and reach for him before I’m awake enough to know better.
His side of the bed is empty.
The sheets are crumpled.
The bathroom is dark.
There’s no lingering smell of coffee climbing the stairs, like it has the past week. Charlie sits at the foot of the bed with his eyes fixed on me.
“Is he still here?” I ask, knowing the answer in my heart.
Next to my phone on the nightstand, there’s a folded piece of paper. I unfold it.
Thanks for being my flirty fall fling.
Underneath it sits a signature I’ve never seen—Jameson Cross.
Not Jamie. No, that name is only reserved for family and the people he loves. Jameson Cross is a name used by strangers, flings, and fans.
The rules were mine, made on the equinox with my dress half off and my guard down. No falling in love and gone on November first, with a sprinkle of no lying. Forty days later, one of us kept the rules, and it wasn’t me.
He told me once that he’d keep his promises to me. I almost wish this one were one of those he broke.
I get up because staying in bed feels wrong.
His toothbrush isn’t in the cup by my sink. The razor and his charger are gone. The sweatshirt I stole in October is folded on the chair, like he left it just for me, but everything else has vanished.
Both of our wolf masks sit on the floor by the dresser where we dropped them, nose to nose.
Through the balcony doors, the backyard is a field of jack-o’-lanterns, covered in frost.
I can’t help the tears that fall. I let myself get it out because this is exactly what I wanted.
Charlie climbs over my legs and settles next to me, reaching.
I pick up my phone and decide to call him. It picks up, and I get the message that the number is no longer in service. I listen to it twice, like this is such a sick joke. It doesn’t change. I set the phone face down on the blanket, taking this as a sign.
He disconnected his phone. Wow.
The mood ring on my pointer finger, which has been violet since I met him, is black. I take it off and set it on my nightstand.
The manor hasn’t felt this empty since my aunt passed away. For forty days, I had the pleasure of hearing his laugh, footsteps on the stairs, and him asking Charlie ridiculous questions. The house is holding its breath, just like me.
I put on his sweatshirt and hate how much it comforts me. The red cape hangs off the edge of my dresser. Last night, I was Little Red Wolf, dancing with the Big Bad in front of the whole town. Everyone knew it was us; no one said a word.
This morning, I’m a woman alone in a haunted house.
Both of our cups said once in a lifetime. I spent weeks refusing to believe it. This morning, I finally do.
I sit on his side of the bed and watch the frost melt off the pumpkins in the backyard. Charlie sits in the window, unamused.
The smell of pancakes and my growling stomach coax me downstairs.
Josie stands at the stove in her flannel pajamas, and Winter sits at the table in silk pajamas.
My cousin takes one look at me. “He’s gone.”
“Yes,” I say.
Instead of explaining, I put the note on the table. Winter reads it with her jaw set. Then she reads it again.
“Actually, fuck him!” she says.
“I want to, right now,” I cry. “He was the best I’ve ever had.”
Josie holds back laughter until she can’t. She covers her mouth, apologizing the entire time. “Sorry. It’s actually not funny. I suppose this is one of those cases where you should be careful what you wish for.”
“Not helpful,” Winter says to her, but her mouth twitches.
I put my head down on the three-hundred-year-old table.
“Thirty days was his record,” I tell them. “I got bonus days and a thank-you note.”
“At least he left a note,” Winter says. “It has his signature on it. Sell it.”
“Can we hex him?” Josie asks.
“No.”
“Just small, annoying hexes. Like his pillow stays hot for a year. Every light he approaches turns red. Five-minute hot showers. It’s enough to make someone crash out.”
“He disconnected his phone.”
Winter turns her mug in a circle. “This doesn’t make sense. I’d have bet on him.”
“You’d have lost,” I say, and my voice cracks in the middle. “Going no contact like that is cruel as fuck.”
Josie abandons the griddle to quickly hug me. “The good thing about this is you can literally have any man you want. I’ve seen the comments all those guys have left under your picture.”
“I don’t want anyone else,” I tell her.
“Pancakes are burning,” Winter says, and all of them are instantly removed and plated.
My phone rings while Josie pours more batter. It’s a local number, so I answer. Anything else, not happening, not after my business was doxed online.
Brandon from Antique Restoration confirms they’ll be working on the roof on Friday, then very politely asks for the forty-eight thousand dollars.
I get his information and contact my bank to wire the money.
I should feel good about taking care of this.
Flora would be excited. The Historical Society is thrilled.
It took a lot of guts and gall, and I made it happen. But at what cost?
The girls talk in soft voices. I stare at the syrup bottle and reshuffle last night in my head. How could he disconnect his phone so fast? He left his sweatshirt on purpose. Winter is a professional. None of it adds up.
“Something doesn’t feel right,” I say. Intuition takes over, and I push back so fast in the chair that I nearly fall. “I have to go to New York.”
“Right now?” Josie asks.
“Yes, I have this feeling. I have to go. I have to find him, even if it’s to get closure.”
Winter already has her phone out. “There’s a seat on the ten o’clock out of Denver.” Seconds later, she’s pulling out her credit card and buying it. She types in my information.
“I’ll pay you back,” I tell her. “I need to leave now if I’m going to make it there in time.”
What follows is the fastest hour of me packing for a trip in the history of Wardwell Manor.
Josie throws things into my carry-on faster than I can veto them.
Winter starts rescheduling my clients this week with zero explanations.
I change outfits twice. This might be the most reckless day of my life.
I have no idea where I’m going. I don’t know what will happen if I show up and he doesn’t want me there.
But at least I’ll know it was all or nothing.
At the curb at the airport, Josie hugs me and makes me promise to text her if I need anything. Winter takes both my shoulders and looks me over.
“Go get your answer,” she says. “Whatever his answer turns out to be, you’ll be okay. Know that.”
“Do you think this is ridiculous?” I ask, searching her face, needing some sort of confirmation.
“It’s not,” she says. “Love makes people do wild things. But when it’s the real deal, it’s worth it. Always.”
I drag my bag toward the doors, and Josie rolls down the window.
“Remember, the tiny hexes are still on the table!”
I walk into the airport laughing with tears in my eyes.
The plane taxis to the runway at ten on the dot.
I wonder if leaving Pine Haven to search for him is the right decision, or if I’ve lost my mind.
I don’t have Jamie’s address. The only number I’ve ever had for him is no longer in service.
New York has millions of people. Finding him in the city will be like finding a needle in a haystack.
But here I am, still searching, still holding on to hope that what we shared was real.
The snowcapped mountains fade under the wing of the plane.
Winter is coming.
I fall asleep, only waking when the captain welcomes us to New York. It’s bright, and the sunshine against the city windows twinkles below us. It’s big, bold, and bright. He’s down there somewhere, and I wonder what he’s doing.
The wheels touch down, skirting the runway. I grab my carry-on and exit the plane. Before my phone completely dies, I schedule a rideshare to the hotel I booked for three days.
Forty days ago, I promised a man I’d never fall in love with him. I need to find him so he can tell me, to my face, that I’m not what he wants. It’s the only way I’ll ever be able to move on.