The witch room is all candles and dark fabrics. Stacy had a vision for this room, and I’m thankful for that because I have absolutely no idea what a witch room should look like. A Tarot deck is stacked neatly on the circular table in the center of the room. There’s a spirit board on the desk by the window, and a crystal ball sits next to that. Light from the candles casts the room in a golden glow, making it feel more romantic than creepy. And then there’s the large four-poster bed with a flowing wine colored canopy.

I walk around the room, trailing my fingers over the cork tops of the small apothecary bottles filled with grape juice—my love potions—and wonder how many people will buy themselves a spell.

My thoughts drift to Jude for the millionth time today. I haven’t heard from him. As soon as I finished working on the haunted house decorations, I texted him. I’d hoped for a message or a call this morning, but he never responded. My heart sinks at the prospect of having ruined our budding relationship with my misunderstanding of the situation. He may have seen me last night and cleared everything up, but I didn’t get to make sure he understood how happy I was to see him.

A soft knock on my door has me turning my attention to the front of the room. Stacy walks through the doorway and grins. “You look amazing.” She crosses the floor and tugs at the corset top of my dress until my boobs are on better display. “There. A sexy witch sells much better than a wicked one.”

I roll my eyes. “Is everything ready?”

“Yep. I just have to get dressed and then we’re going to open the doors. There’s already a line.”

“A line?” I honestly didn’t think this was going to be such a big deal. Then again, that seems shortsighted now. Stacy’s event coordination skills almost guaranteed this would be a huge success.

“Now remember, leave your door open and if there’s any problem, text me a 9-1-1. I’ve got a few of the hockey players on standby as bouncers if we need them.”

I nod. “I also have pepper spray in my bag. Just in case.”

She raises her eyebrows. “I’m impressed.”

“You never know.”

“Okay, have fun tonight! I have to change.”

She flounces off and I take a seat at my fortune reading table. Reaching in the small velvet pouch attached to my belt, I pull my phone free and stare down at it with a frustrated ache taking hold in my chest. Why hasn’t he responded to me?

I type a message and pray he’ll respond.

Why aren’t you talking to me?

Minutes pass with no response, and my frustration turns to mild anger. I type another.

I thought we were okay.

Still nothing. My emotions are all over the place as a bone-deep sadness takes hold. I messed it all up. I should have gone with him last night and not let Stacy drag me to the house.

I’m sorry. I need you with me. I don’t feel right without you.

Even then, no answer. I tuck my phone back in my bag and when the lights in the hall dim and the haunted house music begins, I hear my sorority sisters cheering.

“I’m here to have my fortune read,” a booming voice says from the hall. “How about you, baby? You want to know our future?”

Paul Woodward, captain of the wrestling team, comes in with his girlfriend of the week. He’s dressed as Dean Winchester from Supernatural and she’s got on a skin-tight black dress that has the license plate from Dean’s Impala spread across her boobs.

“Oh, I get it. You’re supposed to be his car.” I have to give them credit, it’s a pretty cute couples costume.

“Because he calls his car Baby,” the girl explains needlessly.

“Right,” I mutter. “Well, have a seat. Make your donation and I’ll give you a special love potion.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Paul holds his hands up to stop me. “Who said anything about love?”

God, what a douche. “Maybe I wasn’t talking to you, Paul. Clearly you don’t deserve her.” I wave my hands over my deck of cards and Paul’s girl sits down in front of me. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I flip over some cards and gasp.

Her eyes go wide. “What is it?”

“You’re with the wrong man. I’m sorry to say, Paul is going to hurt you.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Paul grumbles. “Fucking cock-block.”

“You’ll meet your true love at the library, while you’re studying.”

“But I don’t study.” Her voice is soft and holds a hint of wonder.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Jessica.” Paul’s voice is filled with exasperation.

“My name is Jamie.”

I cringe. “Okay, time’s up. Thank you for stopping by. I’ve heard the dragon’s room is really hot.”

Paul takes Jamie’s hand but she tugs it free and storms out.

“Thanks for nothing, Tillie,” he throws at me.

I offer him a slight wave and he storms out of the room.

Over the next hour, I read pretend fortunes, sell love potions, and successfully avoid advances from three frat guys who had clearly been enjoying some herbal treats. I’m already exhausted from pretending my heart doesn’t ache when I watch these couples who come in all lovey. That’s only exaggerated by the fact my phone has been silent all this time.

I send a quick text to Stacy, telling her I’m shutting the door for a short break. I don’t wait for her answer, instead, I stride to the door and close it before leaning against the heavy wood and closing my eyes.

An overwhelming sense of loss crashes into me. I know without a doubt that I’ve lost the one man I could’ve truly loved. I let fear control me instead of trusting him.

I stare out the window, hands on the top of the desk to ground me. If he won’t contact me, I’ll just have to go back to his house and show him how I feel.

The sound of the door opening has my shoulders stiffening. “I’m closed for a break,” I call out.

“That’s just not going to work for me, Tillie.” My heart nearly leaps out of my chest at the sound of Jude’s voice. “You see, I’ve only got a few weeks left and I need my cards read.”

When I turn toward him, my knees go weak at the sight of his handsomeness. His jaw is covered in sexy stubble and I want to run my fingers over the chiseled perfection of his face.

“I…I thought you were done with me.”

He shakes his head. “Never. I’ll never be done.”

“But you ignored my messages.”

“No I didn’t. I responded every time. I tried to call you and it went to voicemail.”

That’s when I remember. I blocked his number when I thought he was a philandering bastard. “Oh, my God.”

“What?”

“I blocked you and I never fixed it.”

“Wow, you were properly angry, weren’t you?”

“Might have been.”

“Well, I’m here now, and I paid for the rest of the night with the witch.”

My whole body heats at the rough need in his voice. I clear my throat and run my hands over my costume. As I take in his fedora and leather jacket, I grin. “Are you…Indiana Jones?”

He grabs the brim of his fedora and smirks. “Might be.”

“Well, Doctor Jones, have a seat.”

His gaze traverses my form, desire burning in his eyes. “That dress—”

“Like it?”

He bites his lower lip and nods. “Very much. Although it’s far from historically accurate.”

I laugh. “Sit down and stop your judging.”

The man of my dreams sits at the table and I take my place across from him. I grab the cards and start laying them out, but he reaches for my hand. His touch makes everything else stop.

“Let me. I do have a little experience with the occult, after all.”

Chuckling, I slide the deck across the tabletop and watch as he deals them out in a pattern.

“What do they say?” I ask.

He locks gazes with me, his expression stern and serious. “You’re going to fall for a man who’ll adore you for the rest of your life.”

“I am?”

“Oh, yes.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

His eyebrows rise in question. “That’s what the cards tell me.”

“Well, those cards are wrong. I can promise you that.”

“Why?”

“How can I fall if I’m already there?”

The relief in his eyes brings me to tears. “I worried I was the only one.”

I shake my head, throat thick with emotion and keeping me from speaking. Tears spill down my cheeks and he’s gotten up and rushed to me before pulling me into his arms.

“I know it’s soon, and there are so many things we need to work out, but these last few days without you have been the worst of my life, Tillie.” He wipes my tears away and turns my face up toward his. “I can’t bear to let you go.”

“Me too,” I say, voice wobbling. “I never thought…I didn’t want to do this because I’d lose my focus and my plans would be derailed.”

“I know school is important to you. I don’t want to get in the way of you getting your degree, but if you’ll let me, I’ll support you, encourage you, and help you get there.”

His cobalt blue irises burn into mine with such sincerity, I can’t deny him. “I couldn’t tell you no even if I wanted to. Not being yours is more distracting than being with you. But you’re going back in a few weeks. How are we going to make this work?”

He holds me tight and buries his face in my hair, soft kisses trailing down my throat. “We’ll do whatever it takes to see you accomplish your goals. If I have to travel across the ocean to see you, that’s what I’ll do. I just need to know you’re mine.”

Arousal courses through me at the feel of his stubble brushing my collarbone. I never want to let him go. “I’m yours.”