By the time they pulled Connor from the wreckage, his car was nothing but a charred skeleton.


    Gwh watched in horror as they loaded him onto a stretcher and into an ambnce.


    She tried to follow, but his friends blocked her path.


    "Get lost," one of them snarled. "Stay away from Connor. You''re a jinx."


    Gwh could only stand there, helpless, as the ambnce sped away, its sirens wailing into the distance.


    The chaotic scene quickly quieted, leaving only the cleanup crew to deal with the aftermath.


    The car Connor had been driving for her was towed away, one vehiclepletely destroyed and the other not far behind.


    Guilt gnawed at her as she stared at the empty road.


    If she hadn''t seen that message, she wouldn''t have been distracted.


    If she hadn''t been distracted, Connor wouldn''t have been so badly injured in a crash that nearly killed them both.


    It was all her fault.


    Everyone who got close to her met with misfortune.


    She was a curse.


    Gwh copsed onto the pavement, burying her face in her hands, consumed by


    a wave of suffocating despair.


    The once-sunny sky suddenly turned treacherous.


    Dark clouds rolled in, and thunder rumbled in the distance.


    A momentter, fat raindrops began to fall, sttering against her face like tiny, stinging stones.


    She sat there in the downpour, numb and oblivious, letting the rain soak her to the bone, until arge ck umbre suddenly shielded her from the deluge.


    A deep, maic voice spoke from above her. "I saw the news about an ident here. I came to check on you."


    Not long after Gwh had left, Hawthorne received a call from Butler Parham informing him she''d gone out with another man.


    He suspected it was Connor; aside from him, Gwh didn''t know any other men here.


    The only other possibility was Bill Crawford, but after theirst


    encounter Hawthorne was


    ???


    confident Bill would never bother her again.


    Just as Hawthorne''s car pulled up, he saw an ambnce racing from the scene and his gut told him something was wrong.


    He found one car engulfed in mes and his wife standing beside the other, dazed but thankfully unharmed.


    When Hawthorne saw that Gwh was safe, he let out a quiet sigh of relief.


    As for anyone else, he couldn''t care less.


    In a way, Connor was lucky.


    Getting into a car ident after


    running off with his wife meant a trip


    to the hospital, which saved


    Hawthorne the trouble of dealing with him personally.


    "Connor is hurt," she whispered, her voice hollow. "It''s because of me."


    Hawthorne pulled her into a tight embrace, but she remained limp in his arms, her mind a chaotic storm.


    Everyone she touched suffered.


    Her friends, her family-anyone she cared about got hurt.


    Why did this always happen to her?


    All she ever wanted was to be an ordinary person. Was that too much to ask?


    She lifted her beautiful, rain-streaked eyes to his, and Hawthorne gently wiped the water from her face.


    "Hush, it''s not your fault," he soothed. "No one wanted this to happen. Let''s go home."


    He reached for her hand, but Gwh snatched it away.


    "It is my fault! Trouble follows me everywhere, and people get hurt. I met you, and your family has a


    history with mine. Even if it didn''met


    start with me, it started with my father, which means it''s still connected to me. My father is still missing because of me. My mother lost her husband because of me. brother and sister l?st their father because of me. And now Connor is in the hospital, and I don''t even know


    if he''ll live or die. It''s all my fault. What''s the point of me even being alive?"