was Olivia’s older children were at college in Chicago. She didn’t talk about them often, and if I asked about them, she replied in short, clipped sentences.
“No, they aren’t coming for spring break or the summer.” Her voice fell flat. My chest tightened. I couldn’t imagine being so far from Wallie and not seeing him. I couldn’t have said when she might’ve seen them last.
“Tell me,” I urged, sensing that she wanted to talk about it or vent. “I’m here for you. Even if I am eight hours away, or by plane a couple of hours.”
“You know I was married before.” She laughed softly. “Of course, you do. I had two kids with the asshole.”
“Yes, I remember you mentioning it.” She had married Carter Phillips, the star quarterback of Shipton High. Had two kids and lived the high life. Nothing Olivia wasn’t a stranger to since her family had always had money.
She sniffled. “The marriage was shaky from the start. I’ve grown enough to know I didn’t help matters. I stuck the kids with a nanny while I did everything every other rich wife did. I wasn’t a mother to them, not properly. Not like with Sammie. They grew up to hate me.” Olivia let out a breath then sniffed. “Carter and I fought all the time about all the petty shit I did. I didn’t see it, didn’t see who I was until I lost everything. Carter packed up the kids and left one day. The next time we talked was in front of the judge.”
Damn. Talk about karma. And I truly felt bad for Olivia. Carter could have tried harder. Then again, I hadn’t been there. I didn’t know how bad it was. But to take the kids? “I’m so sorry, Liv.”
“It’s my fault. I just hope that one day Jess and Devan will forgive me.” She sniffed again. “I’ve been trying, reaching out a lot. Anyway, I hear Sammie stomping around in his room. Let me feed him. Thanks for calling.” She obviously wanted to be free from this conversation. It had to be hard to talk about.
“No problem. You can call me any time to talk. I’m here for you.”
“Thank you. Talk to you later.” She ended the call.
I set down my phone and stared at the ceiling. As I contemplated getting out of bed and getting started with the day, the ghostly feeling returned. I jumped out of bed. "Clay?" I whispered. Grabbing my old robe from the back of the closet door, I slipped out into the hallway, but the feeling just got stronger. My skin tingled as I moved down the hallway and crossed to the living room. Before entering the kitchen, something cool brushed up against me, like from head to toe. Startled, I whirled around, but nothing was there.
No. That wasn’t true. I was sure Clay was there and was trying to make contact. But why? Why was he there now? And why did he need to talk with me? It just didn't make sense that he'd show up now after all this time.
Not that I wasn't happy to feel him again. Actually, my feelings were strongly mixed. I'd begun to move on. So then, guilt washed over me for realizing I'd been in the process of moving on and that felt disloyal to Clay.
Grief was a, well, it was a bitch.
After one search around the living room, then a quick spin around the den and office, I went into the kitchen and proceeded to make coffee. Thankfully, it had been among the items Wade had brought the night before. The dark, rich go-go juice always made it easier to think. I got the water added to the reserve tank and caught something dark moving to my left. Jerking my head in the direction where I would've sworn something moved, I frowned. Nothing.
Okay, I might've been going crazy.
As I reached for the sugar, the entire canister moved. Like several inches across the counter away from me.
Nope, nope, nope.
Breathing heavily, I sent out my senses, putting magic in the mix, searching for whatever was haunting my house. I sucked in a breath when I felt Clay so suddenly and so strong it was as if he were standing right beside me. My pulse kicked up several beats per second which I was sure wasn’t healthy. Especially for someone my age.
Whirling around and around, I stopped, somehow. Why I halted in the exact spot that I did, I had no idea, but I