“But — ”
“I said it was fine.” I picked up the suitcase and duffle bag, and pushed past him so I could go downstairs. My purse was still sitting on the dining room table, so I slung that over my shoulder, and then pulled the green wool coat Marie had bought me out of the closet. I’d put it on later, after I was out of here. I didn’t want to delay for even the minute it would take me to put down my purse so I could button up the coat.
When I shut the closet door, Connor was standing in the hall. “You should really let me take you home.”
Anger flared in me then, a heat that began to melt the ice in my core. “I don’t want any favors from you, Connor Wilcox.”
And I marched to the door, opened it, and let myself out. When I was about halfway down the corridor that led to the street, I realized he wasn’t going to come after me. Holding back tears, I went out to the street, then paused for the briefest moment, looking up at the apartment. I saw a pale, sad face at the window, and realized it was Mary Mullen, staring down at me. She lifted a hand in farewell, and disappeared.
It was dark by then. Across Route 66 was the Amtrak station. It seemed as good a place to go as any.
So I waited for the signal to change so I could cross the street safely, then went into the lobby of the station. For one wild moment I contemplated going up to one of the ticket windows and buying myself a ticket to someplace — anyplace — as long as it wasn’t here.
But I knew I couldn’t do that. Connor had abandoned me, but that didn’t mean I didn’t still have family back in Jerome. I had responsibilities, ones I had left behind to chase the false love that he’d offered me. I should call my aunt, have her come pick me up. Somehow I’d figure out how to deal with her “I told you so’s.”
No, that didn’t feel right. I needed to go home, but I wanted to do it on my own terms. And that meant not asking a McAllister for help. I needed to call the one person who always had my back, who would support me and let me cry and who wouldn’t guilt me for trusting a Wilcox.
I pulled out my phone, ran down my contacts list, and pushed the button for Sydney’s number.
* * *
The story concludes in Darkmoon, Book 3 of the Witches of Cleopatra Hill trilogy.
If You Enjoyed This Book…
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Also by Christine Pope
TALES OF THE LATTER KINGDOMS
(Fantasy Romance)
All Fall Down
Dragon Rose
Binding Spell
Ashes of Roses
One Thousand Nights
* * *
THE WITCHES OF CLEOPATRA HILL
(Paranormal Romance)
Darkangel
Darknight
Darkmoon
Sympathetic Magic
* * *
THE GAIAN CONSORTIUM SERIES
(Science Fiction Romance)
Breath of Life
Blood Will Tell
The Gaia Gambit
The Mandala Maneuver
* * *
THE SEDONA FILES
(Paranormal Romance)
Bad Vibrations
Desert Hearts
Angel Fire
Also available in an omnibus edition at a special low price!
* * *
STANDALONE TITLES
(Contemporary Romance)
Fringe Benefits
(Paranormal Romance)
Playing With Fire
Sympathy for the Devil
About the Author
Christine Pope has been writing stories ever since she commandeered her family’s Smith-Corona typewriter back in the sixth grade. Her work includes paranormal romance, and fantasy and science fiction/space opera romance. She now works as a freelance editor and graphic designer in addition to writing fiction. She fell in love with Sedona, Arizona, while researching the Sedona Trilogy and now makes her home there, surrounded by the red rocks. No alien sightings, though...not yet, anyway!
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Christine Pope on the Web:
@ChristineJPope
ChristinePopeAuthor
www.christinepope.com
Darknight (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill Book 2) Page 28