From the future. Fifty years from now.

Her words rang in my head over and over until the roar of blood pounding in my ears drowned them out.

I stood at the window, hands braced on the wall on either side, and stared through the glass. My eyes started to blur when I saw her, but that was because I refused to blink—she’d turned around and came back. Was it to tell me she was sorry? That she’d made it all up?

But she didn’t pause, just kept walking slowly toward the gates.

What the fuck was she going to do, walk back to Florence’s?

Shit.

I needed to get a grip, breathe, think. Calm down.

Then I’d get in the car. Drive her back to where she needed to be.

And never see her again. Ever.

Fifty years from now.

“What kind of crazy shit is that?”

And who was crazier—her, for expecting me to buy it? Or me, because she apparently thought I would?

She was pregnant.

Jealousy burned inside me, but even now, I knew that if she hadn’t gone and tried to sell me that stupid bit about being from the future, I would’ve…I didn’t know. But I could’ve handled her being pregnant with some other man’s kid. As long as she didn’t run around on me when we were together, I could’ve handled it. Because I still loved her.

“Damn it!” I drove my fist into a wall and lifted my eyes to the ceiling, wondering why in the hell all this was happening now. Why now? Everything—Maya coming back, Cane dying.

And she was pregnant.

My hand throbbed.

Flexing it, I shoved away from the wall.

She was almost to the gate.

I had to get out there and get her in the car, drive her back.

I couldn’t let her walk.

For all I knew, she’d get abducted by aliens or some shit. I’d heard crazier stories in my life, like Maya being a time traveler.

I snorted. Sarcasm wasn’t going to help. Nothing right now was going to help. Except, maybe, seeing her walk through the door and tell me she was sorry—she was scared and upset, she’d messed up leaving me…

When I hit the bottom step, I stared hard at the door, almost willing it to open. Willing something to happen.

The phone rang.

But the door stayed shut.

Should’ve expected that, I thought tiredly, walking over to the phone and staring at it. What I wouldn’t give to know who was calling. If only there were some way to just know who was on the other end of the line, so I could decide if it was worth answering or not.

It rang a third time, then a fourth while I hesitated.

Maya was still walking away. How could she have expected me to believe that bullshit story? And what was more insane…her telling me that? Or me wanting to believe anything she said?

The phone had stopped ringing.

I grabbed the boots I’d kicked off earlier, pulling them on and shoving the cuffs of my jeans back down over the top. Just as I got to my feet, the phone started to ring all over again.

“Not this shit again,” I muttered. It had to be either Florence or Peter. I could handle talking to Florence, but the other one…shit. If it was Pete—I just didn’t have the capacity to talk him, but if I didn’t, he’d either show up, or keep nagging.

I didn’t want that.

I didn’t want him making the drive up here, not after he’d seen me at the funeral with Maya.

Maya…

Fuck.

She was walking further and further away from me.

That decided it.

Grabbing the phone, I snapped, “Yeah?”

There was a pause, followed by Florence’s voice. “Glenn, is everything alright?”

Florence. I could take Florence.

“No.” I was tempted to detail how not alright things were, but didn’t want to bring her into the crazy web Maya had tried to lure me into. “I’m a mess, but I’ll manage. What do you need?”

“Well…” She cleared her throat delicately. “Maya called. I…”

A pulse began to pound in my temples. Maya. Taking the phone with me, I stretched the cord as far as I could, so I could stare out the window. I couldn’t see her from this one. Maybe the living room. The phone didn’t stretch that far.

“You said Maya called.”

“She needed a ride,” Florence said. She hesitated again, and when she spoke, her voice was almost as it had been when we’d first met—nervous, uncertain. “Harrison has already left. But she was upset. I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

My temper snapped. “No. Everything is not okay,” I bit off, hand tightening around the casement of the phone until I was almost certain it would shatter in my hand. “You should do yourself a favor and get her out of your life before she tries to lure you into the crazy stories she’s created, Florence. You and me…we’re finally stable. We don’t need that shit.”

Then I slammed the phone down, already wishing I hadn’t snapped at her.

But calling her back…no. That wasn’t a good idea, because I wouldn’t be able to keep a conversation going without getting pissed, and Florence didn’t deserve my temper.

Pacing over to the window in the front room, which gave a view of the road from far off, I leaned a shoulder against the wall. She sure as hell wasn’t wasting time.

She was almost out of sight.

Damn it.

At the rate she was walking, she’d be halfway to Florence’s house by the time the big, grim-faced butler reached her. Harrison hadn’t ever said more than two words to me, but he seemed damned protective of both Maya and Florence. And now he was speeding here to carry her away.

Because she’d called Florence…crying.

Guilt jerked inside me, and a memory of the pain I’d seen in her eyes rose up to bite me.

That just pissed me off, because Maya had screwed me over time and again. She had lied to me, left me, broken my heart. There were too many nights and days when I’d refused to sleep, waiting by the phone, certain the police or the detective would call.

Then I’d been afraid to sleep because they wouldn’t…or if they did, it would be regarding a body they’d found.

I’d almost become inured to fear, had all but forgotten what it was like to sleep easy.

Finally, I’d just accepted she was gone.

Then, suddenly she wasn’t—and she had the nerve to hand me this story? And give me that look when I didn’t believe her?

I had nothing to feel guilty over.

But here I was, fighting to urge to leave the house, march up that pathway, and catch up with her. She lifted a hand and although I couldn’t make out much of anything at this distance, my imagination filled in the blanks. She was wiping away tears.

“Shit.”

Shoving away from the wall, I shook my head. “I’m not getting pulled back into this.” I couldn’t.

Mind made up, I went to turn away—I even did it.

Then I made the big mistake of glancing back at her…just as she stumbled.

She fell and I swore, bolting out the door before I even realized what I was doing.

She was even farther away than I’d realized—and I was either more tired than I’d thought, or I was getting old, because my breath was coming in ragged pants when I crested the final hill.

There, she sat on the ground, her arms wrapped around her knees. My heart tripped. Her shoulders were shaking. She was crying.

Because she’d hurt herself or because of…

I didn’t even have a chance to finish the thought.

Maya surged up, half-staggering to her feet, and she half-turned, hurling something—a shoe.

It barely missed my face.

Seconds passed as we stared at each other. Picking up the footwear-turned-deadly-projectile, I searched for something to say or do. She had blood rolling down her leg, and her other shoe was still on, so she stood in an uneven stance, her shoulders rising and falling with the ragged rhythm of her breaths.

The anger in me started to dissolve in that very second.

No, I thought. I can’t…I’m not doing this again.

Maya was the one to break that connection, shifting her stance and stifling a pained gasp as her injured leg took more of her weight.

“Come back to the house.”

“No, thank you.” Her voice was steadier than I would’ve expected considering that her face, when she’d looked at me, had been streaked with tears.

“You fell down. You’re hurt. You can wait…”

The roar of an engine rose in the distance, and I lapsed into silence as she turned away from me. The car that came around the corner was a familiar one.

A heavy weight settled in my chest.

Relief. It was relief. That was all.

“Looks like it won’t be necessary,” I said.

“Completely.” Maya looked back at me over her shoulder. The mix of emotions I saw in her eyes added to the weight pressing down on me. “Don’t worry, Glenn. You don’t have to force any sort of consideration. I’m done expecting it. If I’m ever on fire, I give you permission to walk right on by and let me burn.”

The car came to a halt as my mind tried to process that.

Why was she the one acting like the injured party here?

“Maya…”

Harrison climbed out. “You’re hurt,” he said, his big voice deceptively soft.

“I fell. I think the heel of my shoe broke. I’m fine.” She touched his arm and jealousy, once more, raged inside. “I just want to go home. I’m tired.”

He gave a polite nod and opened the door. She didn’t climb in right away, lingering there with one hand on the roof. A moment later, from under the car door, I could see why—she’d taken her other shoe off.

I looked down at the one I held and saw the heel had all but torn from the sole of the shoe.

I started to hold it out, but she slid inside.

Harrison gave me a long look.

Then, saying nothing, he climbed into the car and drove off.

Left standing there, holding onto Maya’s shoe, I muttered, “I’m not the bad guy here.”

Yet I couldn’t quite make myself believe it.

And that pissed me off.