out the window. It might have been a long time since Ava and Quill were lovers, but Ava was here now, looking as young and vibrant as ever. And Callie didn’t know how to handle it. She loved her grandmother and felt guilty for wishing she hadn’t come back. Not that she wished her dead. Never that. Just not . . . here.
Callie shook her head. She was supposed to marry Quill in a few days, but how could she? What if he found her wanting when compared to her grandmother? What if he was still attracted to Ava? What if Ava was still attracted to him? How could she not be? He was gorgeous and sexy and . . .
Callie slammed her hands on the counter. She had to stop thinking about it before she drove herself crazy—if she hadn’t already.
She jumped when someone knocked at the back door. Peering through the window, she saw Nolan Jeffries staring at her through the glass. Blowing out a sigh, she opened the door. “Hi. What brings you here so early in the morning?”
“Wendy saw your light. She sent me over to make sure everything was all right. Is Quill here?”
“No.”
Nolan’s brows knit together. “Where is he?”
“Still up north, as far as I know.”
“Did he find the Dark Wood?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Why don’t you come over tonight? He’ll probably be here by then.”
“Okay, sure.” He sent her a troubled look, then turned and jogged back toward his house.
Callie stared after Jeffries, wondering where Quill was and what she would say to him if and when he returned.
* * *
Quill hesitated at the front door. Needing some time alone to sort out his thoughts, and thinking Callie might feel the same, he had gone to his lair, where he’d showered and changed clothes. The wounds he had received from Claret and the others had already healed.
Opening his senses, he located the women in his life. Ava was pacing the floor in one of the bedrooms. Callie was in the living room, her thoughts troubled. Well, that wasn’t surprising, all things considered. As he opened the door and crossed the threshold, he couldn’t help wondering if Callie would be glad to see him, or if she would ask him to leave.
She looked up when he closed the door behind him.
Quill shoved his hands in his pockets. “Do you want me to go?”
She hesitated for several moments, sighed, and said, “I don’t know.”
“I understand how you feel.”
“Do you? Then tell me, Quill, how do I feel? How would you feel if you found out that the woman you loved had indulged in a torrid affair with your grandfather? Would you just sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened?”
Muttering an oath, he dropped into the chair across from the sofa. “I know you’re upset. I know it’s hard to accept this on top of everything else that’s going on, but dammit, Callie, it was only one night! It has nothing to do with you and me.”
“Doesn’t it? Every time I look at her, I think of the two of you together.” She shook her head as tears filled her eyes. “How am I supposed to get past that? She’s my grandmother and I . . . I . . .”
She didn’t have to put it into words. He knew what she was thinking, knew she felt guilty as hell for wishing her grandmother hadn’t come back—not that she wished her any ill. Never that.
Quill scrubbed a hand over his jaw. Maybe he would never fully understand how she felt. It had all happened over a century ago. She hadn’t even been born at the time. It wasn’t like he had cheated on her or lied to her. “Callie, honey, I don’t know what to say.” He shook his head “I can’t undo the past.”
“I wish you could.”
“So do I, love. Believe me, so do I.” Raking his fingers through his hair, he asked, “Where do we go from here?”
She exhaled a deep, shuddering sigh, then clasped her hands in her lap. “I’m going home.”
“Do you think that’s wise?”
“I don’t know, but I need some time alone.”
“You can stay here. I’ll leave.”
“No.” Mouth set in a stubborn line, she shook her head. “I’m going home.”
He nodded slowly. “If that’s what you want.”
“We’re leaving tomorrow afternoon. I’ve already booked a flight.”
“You didn’t have to do that. I could have taken you.”
She looked at him, mute, her eyes twin pools of pain and sadness.