“Anna,” his voice softened against the commotion of a full bar in the background. “Maybe something came up, and he wanted to be there but just couldn’t.”
Maybe she would have believed that excuse if she hadn’t used it a hundred times before. “I’m fine. This is how he wants it, and it’s time I accepted that.” She should have accepted it ten years ago.
“At least you found him on Facebook. Maybe ask him what happened. Call him out on it.”
That wouldn’t happen. She’d stalk his pictures and follow his posts for a while, slip into a mild depression, shallow enough to hide her devastation from the rest of the world. Then she’d block him for her own good and move on.
It was a private process—had to be. While she was vulnerable enough to hurt, she had too much pride to show him just how much he could hurt her.
But Kyle didn’t need to know all that. “Maybe.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
She forced a smile. “You’re sweet, but no. I just need to push forward and let it go.”
“You sure you don’t want company tonight?”
A temporary fix that could really complicate things. “No, I’m good. But thanks. You’re a good friend.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow night?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t study too hard.”
She ended the call and shut her eyes trying to recall the last time she didn’t have this emptiness in her chest. She could fall asleep here, on the floor of her kitchen. That’s what happened when crazy dreams woke you up ten nights in a row. God, she was tired.
Her mind rested and for a few minutes she forgot she had hours of cramming ahead. In the silence, random memories skipped though her mind, like a scattered puzzle pieces that added up to encompass the jigsaw of her life.
The world never slowed enough for her to truly stop and appreciate the picture all the pieces made. But sometimes she managed to grab hold of a little piece and see the memory like it was brand new again.
Her smile stretched as she recalled the night her mother had tried making a casserole dish she found online. She’d burnt the bottom so badly they had to throw away the pan. Why that night was suddenly in her head she hadn’t a clue, but it was so clear she could almost smell the burnt cheese. That had been before the cancer.
“I miss you...”
Sometimes she envied religious people. Annalise had about as much faith in God as she did in Santa Claus. Losing a parent when all the right steps were taken and seeing the same treatments work for someone else’s mom but not hers... If she’d ever been a spiritual person, she wasn’t anymore. But she wished she at least had the faith to believe her mother was in a better place.
She shoved off the floor and carried her book bag to her bed. “God’s not gonna get you an A, so stop looking for Him.”
Why was she always searching for men who didn’t exist? Next, she’d be hung up waiting for Mr. Right. She plopped on the bed, belly first and sighed. “Time to focus.”
Paging through her text, she pushed her thoughts into the dependable world of science and facts. In her experience, there was more comfort in studying cellular science broken down to the function of organs than the philosophies of the human heart and its response to love.
Science was factual, inarguable, and safe. Love, spirituality, miracles... Those little girl magical beliefs couldn’t save her anymore.
Her prayers went unanswered for so long she’d forgotten how to pray. And while it was fun to think of her mother looking down from some fluffy cloud, Annalise was pretty sure all that remained of her family was buried at Beachwood Cemetery. And, believe it or not, that straightforward truth that people live and then they die, comforted her more than any hope or prayer ever could.
She turned the page, opening a new chapter in her biochemistry text. This was as honest as life got.
Chapter Three
The rolling countryside formed a patchwork of green tucked neatly within fertile mountains and valleys of Pennsylvania. Adam savored the walk home, in the still tranquility of their world—hidden in plain sight.
No wires or rushing vehicles to detract from the evening view. No blasting music or sirens. He couldn’t bear the thought of calling any other place home.
At thirty-seven years old, he ranked as an infant in the eyes of their species. His mate’s age would revert to her prime the moment she transitioned, but he should prepare for the possibility that she might be older than him.
As he continued home, he laid out a plan in his head. He’d locate his mate, complete the bond, and return as soon as possible. Seemed simple enough, but the Amish had a saying, there was a difference between good, sound reason and reasons that sounded good. Explaining his situation and what he was to an English female... Cain was right. Nothing about this journey would be simple.