“Four? But it’s only a two bedroom.”
“Bailey’s boyfriend and his roommate moved in two days ago.” Skye scrunched her nose in displeasure. “They’re such pervs. I constantly feel the need to wear at least four layers of clothes when they’re around.”
Well, sleeping at Skye’s place was out. Maybe she would take up David and Missy’s offer after all. “Never mind. I can get a hotel room.”
Skye set the box down on the second step and took Rose’s hand, squeezing it. “I know it doesn’t seem like this is a good thing, but maybe it is. Out of all of us, you felt the most tied to Strawberry Grove. Maybe this is your chance to be your own person. Go do whatever you want.”
Hope dared to spread its wings inside of her, but she caged it in. “I have Ivy to think about.”
Skye smiled sadly. “Not forever.”
Rose sucked in a breath, knowing it was true but the words hurt all the same. “How are things with you and Tristan?”
“There is no me and Tristan.” Skye pursed her lips. “Never was. We were…friends. Since he can’t go tonight, I’ll babysit Ivy for you instead of Gabriel’s momma.”
“At the apartment with four roommates?” Rose asked in disbelief and a hint of horror that overshadowed her concern for her sister’s love life.
“No, I’m staying over at Jemma Leigh’s, but she won’t mind. She’s paying me to cleanse her aura and feng shui her house,” her sister said with a rueful smile. “I don’t have the heart to tell her I’m not that kind of—”
“Witch?” Rose wiggled her brows.
Skye giggled and let go of Rose’s hand. “Healer.” Her sister’s face grew serious. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, but yesterday I got an email saying that I’ve been taken off the waiting list for their midwifery program and awarded a scholarship to Colorado U.”
Rose sat down on the bottom step, trying to think of something encouraging to say. “But it’s so far away.”
“I know, but it’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time.” Skye sat down beside her. “I tutored some football players on the side, did some mommy’s morning outs and a bunch of other odd jobs. I tucked away enough money for a one-way plane ticket with enough left over to get me started.”
Guilt sprouted inside of Rose. She’d always thought Skye had it so easy living in Greenville, able to come and go as she pleased. Able to sleep in or go out with her friends. God, how wrong she’d been, and now she’d run out of time to change things. “When do you leave?”
“Monday.”
Rose blinked and sucked in a breath. “That soon?”
“I need to line up a job, find a place to live, and get my bearings.” Skye linked her hands with Rose’s. “Don’t worry, I’ll visit over Skype and email you every day. I bet we’ll talk as much as we do now.”
Another pang of guilt hit Rose, and her heart pounded hard in her chest. “How long is the program or whatever you call it?”
“Two years.” Skye laughed at the look on her face. “It’s not forever.”
“Tell that to Blackbeard. He’ll be a thousand years old by the time you come back,” Rose said as the cat licked its paw.
Skye picked at the lint on her sweater, her freckled cheeks pinkening. “I’m not sure I want to come back.”
In her heart Rose had known this day would come. Skye had always wanted to travel and loved meeting new people. She loved talking to them, listening to their every ache and pain while searching her mental file cabinet for ways to help them.
“Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.” And miss her every day, because Rose knew that after this weekend Skye wouldn’t be back for a very long time, if ever.
“Did you love him? Alexander, I mean.”
Rose opened and closed her mouth a couple times before settling on saying, “I gave him my necklace.”
“Oh.” Surprise showed in her sister’s hazel eyes before they dropped to Rose’s neck.
“I don’t know what got into me. I only knew it belonged to him.”
“Did you ever feel that way with Jason?”
Shaking her head, Rose grabbed the nearest box and stood. “Never.” She marched up the stairs, aware of her sister watching her the entire way.
Chapter Nineteen
Rose had never been one to run away from what life threw at her, but tonight—as soon as she walked into her father’s house—she’d been ready to bewitch the nearest broom and fly away.
Any minute now, someone would slide right up to her with their most charming smile and ask her to leave. Any minute now, her mask would be ripped away and the entire town would laugh at her, knowing she’d been played for a fool.
Again.
Oh, why hadn’t she stayed at home with Ivy?
A helpless noise escaped her lips and she clutched Gabriel’s arm tighter. He patted her hand reassuringly and shifted his stance so that she could lean on him for support. She almost wished that his touch did something, anything for her. A slight tingle, a rise of goose bumps…something. But of course, it didn’t happen. Never had and never would. He wasn’t the man for her.
The sound of music rushed over her, grabbing her attention.
She had no desire to join the crush of bodies, and Gabriel, ever the gentleman, didn’t pressure her to do so. Instead she absorbed the party, her joints becoming stiffer as the fear of discovery permeated her bones. People-the famous and notorious-laughed as they mingled with locals, made jokes and toasted each other with champagne.
The entire ballroom was macabre, decorated like a Regency period horror movie set. Fabric swaths of black and silver extended from the enormous chandelier in the middle to the edges of the ballroom. Dark corners flickered with ghostly apparitions. Paintings hung around the room changed from proper lords and ladies to rotting corpses. Zombie servers wove in and out of groups, carefully balancing trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres on the tips of their sickly gray fingers.
“Is that who I think it is?” Gabriel’s brows shot up as a notorious politician and socialite ducked behind a cluster of potted plants.
She had the absurd notion to giggle. “Yes and over there, standing under the portrait of a rotting lady in purple, is—”
“The guy who played James Bond last year.”
“And over there…” Her line of vision collided with a familiar face.
Heath Ambrose, hometown star and major league baseball player, winked at her. He stood beside his brother, Luke, at the buffet table. Or maybe it was Logan. She couldn’t tell the twins apart from the back. Neither wore a costume. Instead they opted for black tuxes and half masks. Heath held his mask as he leaned back to check out a Marie Antoinette with mocha-colored skin and a flirtatious smile.
She thought she heard Gabriel growl and her eyes flew to his face. “What’s wrong?”
Gabriel nodded in Heath’s direction. “He’s been after Bella for years.”
“And?”
“She’s too good for him.” His indigo eyes grew hard. “Don’t tell me they belong together, because it’s not happening.”
“My lips are sealed,” she said with a little smile.
“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“You didn’t ask me to,” she reminded him.
Gabriel grunted, but she couldn’t blame him. He didn’t want his sister to get hurt or disappointed by a man not ready for a serious relationship. Too bad she didn’t have a big brother looking out for her. Then maybe she’d be…She’d be exactly as she was—alone.
“Heath’s actually a nice guy,” she said, earning a look of disbelief from Gabriel. “He would walk me to class in school and protect me from the ones who weren’t so nice.”
Unconvinced, Gabriel shook his head. “If he’s so great, then why didn’t the two of you ever date?”
She grinned. “Well, he did give me my first kiss, but do you really have to ask me that question?”
“You and Romanov done?” The question wasn’t meant to be prying. In fact, she knew Gabriel was concerned about her.
“We never started.” She searched the ballroom again, not wanting to be caught unaware. Sasha was here, lurking in the background. Or shadows like a very bad man.
Gabriel’s muscles tensed beneath her fingers as his ex and her husband appeared in the foyer. The couple didn’t notice them as they waved at obviously familiar faces and melted into the crowd.
“You weren’t meant to be together.”
“But we tried to be anyway.”
“Summer told you,” Rose said and then paused as a ripple of awareness shot through her. She began again, “She told you not to go looking for the spring.”
“Your sister says a lot of things. None of which are ever good ideas,” Gabriel muttered.
Turning to him, Rose said, “You don’t have to stay. I can do this on my own.” Hadn’t she always?
Gabriel gave her a tight smile. “I appreciate it, but I keep my word.”
“Not at the expense of you being uncomfortable. Although I could tell you who you should be dancing with tonight,” she teased, then the image of a woman kissing Gabriel came to mind, shocking Rose with its clarity.
Gabriel held up his hands. “I don’t want to know who I’m supposed to marry.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in my ‘powers’.” She blinked the image away. That woman wasn’t here tonight. She wouldn’t be caught dead in this place.
A dimple appeared in his cheek. “I don’t—especially on Halloween.”
Rose laughed quietly as they walked further into the ballroom. Despite her mask being firmly in place and only a handful of people knowing she was here, tension crept into her spine as the party-goers flickered their eyes over her. But no one said a word or even stopped to point at her.
“Looks like Romanov got a really good turnout. Wonder if he’d agree to hosting one of these for the Center? We could really use the money.” Gabriel stopped a waiter passing by with a tray of champagne and grabbed two glasses, handing one to her. “Thanks for being so understanding about Miguel.”
She backed against up against the wall and Gabriel followed her, his costume making her smile. There were holes in his clothes and small bread rolls were glued to them. As soon as he explained that he was a “holy roller” she’d burst out laughing. It had helped relieve the rapidly multiplying butterflies in her stomach. Unfortunately, pop rocks had taken their place, pinging around her insides and burning.
“It’s not your fault he ran away.”
Gabriel shrugged. “There’s always room for my improvement.”
“Changing what people think of you is hard. Sometimes, it’s impossible.” She flinched as Jason Everett sauntered by with a pretty date wearing butterfly wings and purple hair.
“Sometimes there’s nothing to change about yourself.” Gabriel handed her a glass. “Although, you could change the company you keep.”
Did everyone know she’d been played for a fool by Sasha? Or had Jason been running his mouth again. “You mean Alexander?”
“Speak of the devil,” Gabriel murmured and Rose followed his line of vision.
Sasha stood at the top of the staircase, surveying the ballroom like he owned the place. Dressed in all black, his golden hair a sharp contrast to the severity of his costume, he looked like a man bent on debauchery. The woman inside of her wanted to join him, but she quickly reminded her of exactly what type of man Sasha was. Of course that woman didn’t care.
She frowned.
His sexy green eyes widened and then narrowed as they raked over her, seemingly undressing her. Never had she felt more exposed while wearing so many layers of clothing. The burgundy dress had belonged to the third Poppy Holland, preserved in a trunk rarely opened, while her lingerie had been given to her in trade by a customer. A woman that designed retro corsets, garters and stockings to sell on the internet. Steampunk fashion, she had called it.
Out of habit, her hand moved to her throat.
A wicked smile covered Sasha’s face as he copied her and pulled out the pendant. He held it to his lips and blood rushed to her cheeks. How dare he rub it in her face? Taking a step forward, she bumped into Gabriel.
“Sorry,” she muttered, wishing she had the courage to run over to Sasha and rip the thing off of his neck. However, causing a scene was the worst thing she could do. It was better to remain under the radar for the next couple of hours, until she could escape this hell and go pack.
Sasha placed a black mask over the top half of his face, disappearing with her next blink. Astonishment replaced indignation as she craned her head to get another glimpse of him.
“Are you hungry?” Gabriel asked.
“I should eat if I’m drinking.” She’d been too darn nervous to manage more than crackers and cheese before she’d gotten dressed. Luckily, Skye had stuck around to lace her into the gown.
Rose sipped at the champagne, bubbles tickling her nose as she swayed to the song the band was playing in the background.
“Hullo, love,” Sasha whispered in her ear.
She quickly turned, ready to demand her necklace back, but the only person she found standing beside her was a man wearing a cardboard nightstand with the number one painted on it.
He wriggled his silver eyebrows at her and blew a kiss.
“Dammit,” she breathed.
Sasha appeared again, this time by the refreshment table. He struck up a conversation with a bull and a peacock.
