Blood in the Past (Blood for Blood Series) Read Online Free Page B

between them. Then she started opening and closing her hands and fussing with her nails. The silence stretched until Calvin stood. He bent and gave her a platonic kiss on the cheek.
     
    “We’ve had fun, Jilly.” He crossed the room.
     
    We’ve had fun , she thought. “‘We’ve had fun? ’ Are you fucking kidding me, Cal? I love you!”
     
    He continued toward the door. Jillian snatched one of the flutes off the bed and hurried after him. He must not have heard her because he didn’t turn to face her. She crashed the glass over his head, leaving nothing but the base and a sharp stump of the stem in her trembling hand. Blood glistened in his dark hair, and several drops trickled onto the carpet. He turned, with a hand raised to his injury, and shot her a venomous look. Then he stormed from the room, slamming the door with such force that the other champagne flute rolled off the bed and shattered. 
     
    ***
     
    Three days had passed since that night in Atlantic City. Over and over, Jillian drove past Calvin’s cozy, blue home, creeping down the street and straining for a glimpse of the world that existed behind the slightly parted drapes. She dropped off letters to him each day—sometimes a couple times a day—explaining how picture-perfect their lives could be together. Calvin made detective a couple of months earlier and could transfer anywhere. Jillian had just finished school and could be a psychologist anywhere. Anywhere remained a concept Jillian clung to because it meant their happiness. It meant starting a family of their own. Until then, she would keep driving past his snug, little house. She would keep dropping off letters. She didn’t care that she left them at the home he shared with his wife. Jillian didn’t care because her obsession left little room for caring.
     
    Then her brazenness reached new heights: she dropped off a small package containing her worn, lacy panties.
     
    That may have been the last straw for Calvin’s wife. Jillian called later the same evening. The woman answered but didn’t hand Calvin the phone as she’d done in the past. Her voice sounded sweet but firm. “Please don’t call here anymore. Leave my husband alone, or you’ll be sorry.” Then she hung up. Maybe Calvin was right: his wife had had enough.
     
    The woman had spoken softly, and Jillian thought she heard Calvin’s voice in the background shouting, “Who’s on the phone, Suze?”
     
    Finally a name . Probably short for Susan. But who was Suze to stand between them? He loved Jillian . She drove to their house, still determined not to let go of the first true love of her life. Not without a fight.
     
    Parked across the street from the house, she called again. Susan answered. “Stop calling here, I mean it.” She hung up. The lights were on in the house, but Jillian couldn’t see inside.
     
    She called again. And again. The phone rang. And rang. Each ring was more deafening than the one before as Jillian’s rage escalated. She called Calvin’s cell phone next; it went straight to voice mail. If only he would answer, she could blurt out her news and make him understand. All night, she called the house: no answer. She called his cell phone: voice mail. She reclined her seat and fell asleep.
     
    The next day, late morning, Jillian awoke. Her cell phone had died. Calvin’s car was gone, and she wondered if he’d even given her a second look as he drove down the street on his way to work. She opened the car door and unfolded herself from the confines of the car. Jillian headed across the street and rang the doorbell. She snickered as she approached. “Cozy little house...”
     
    Calvin’s wife answered with pressed lips. Jillian took in her appearance, seeing the woman clearly for the first time. Her alabaster skin, barely flushed at the cheeks, contrasted sharply with Jillian’s maple-colored skin. Even the woman’s hair was the exact opposite of Jillian’s: pure golden sunshine that flowed