“I have to catch my breath,” he whispered, giving my hands a squeeze. “To go a few days without remembering that.”

“I’ll stop,” I said, panicking. “I won’t tap a line again. Nick, you don’t have to leave!”

“Yes, I do.” Dropping my hands, he touched my jawline. His smile was pained. “I want you to pull on a line. I want you to practice. Ley line magic is going to save your life someday, and I want you to become the best damned ley line witch Cincinnati has.” He took a breath. “But I have to put some distance between us. Just for a while. And I have some business of out of state. It has nothing to do with you. I’ll be back.”

But he had said August. “You’re not coming back,” I said, my throat closing. “You’ll come for your books, and then you’ll be gone.”

“Rachel—”

“No.” I turned away. The key was cold in my hand, cutting into my palm. Breathe, I reminded myself. “Just go. I’ll bring Jax over tomorrow. Just go.”

I shut my eyes when he put a hand on my shoulder, but I wouldn’t turn. They flashed open when he leaned closer and the scent of musty books and new electronics filled me. “Thank you, Rachel,” he whispered, and there was the lightest touch of lips on mine. “I’m not leaving you. I’ll be back.”

I held my breath and stared at the ugly gray carpet. I wouldn’t cry, damn it. I wouldn’t.

I heard him hesitate, then the soft thumps of his boots on the stairs. My head started to hurt as the muted rumble of his truck vibrated the window at the end of the hall. I waited until I couldn’t hear it anymore before I turned to follow him out, my steps slow and unseeing.

I’d done it again.

Seven

I pulled my car carefully into the tiny garage, turning off the lights and then the engine. Depressed, I stared at the spackled wall two feet in front of the grille. Silence soaked in, broken by the ticking of the engine cooling off. Ivy’s bike rested quietly against the side wall, covered in a canvas tarp and stored for the winter. It was going to be dark soon. I knew I should get Jenks inside, but it was hard to find the will to unbuckle my belt and get out of the car.

Jenks dropped to the steering wheel with an attention-getting hum. My hands fell into my lap, shoulders slumping. “Well, at least you know where you stand now,” he offered.

My frustration flared, then died, overwhelmed by a wave of apathy. “He said he’s coming back,” I said glumly, needing to believe the lie until I hardened myself to the truth.