Page 108 of I Hope This Email Finds You in Hell

“The baddest,” I agreed.

Now, I stand up. “I know I said I was stuffed twenty minutes ago, but that was twenty minutes ago, and dessert stomach is a thing.”

Before I can leave, Krystal grabs my wrist.

“Wait,” she says. “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

I sit back down. The last time somebody “wasn’t completely honest” with me I found out their brother was the devil, and they, at one point, were also the devil. Needless to say, I’m on edge.

But this is Krystal—not Luke. She’s beside me in a thick caramel sweater and olive corduroy flared pants, her coily hair revived from its matted state from when I found her at Beliar’s. Whatever she’s been keeping from me can’t be worse than what I’m keeping from her.

“What is it?” I ask. She gazes at her backyard—at the shed and playset and woods beyond it.

“In the hospital, after you woke up, you asked me if I remembered anything, and I told you no. But I lied. I don’t remember much, but I remember you.” Tears glisten in her eyes. “You weren’t like the rest of us. You saved us. Luke was with you, wasn’t he?”

My throat lump returns. “He was.”

“I thought so. I remember Poppi asked about him being Jesus and what you told me in the van—that it was all just a bad dream.” She sucks down a breath. “I know you said that to protect me. And I’m going to let you, because I’m not looking for details on where we were and what happened. I just want you to know how grateful I am that you and Luke got us home.”

“I didn’t want Kassidy and Aurelia to have to grow up without you,” I admit. “Or for Amelia to lose you. And fine, maybe part of it was a little self-serving on my end because I don’t want to work at Curated Care if you’re not there with me. How would I ever survive?”

A weepy snort escapes her. She pulls me into a hug and I clutch her tightly. “You’re a good friend, Brie. You deserve to be happy.”

“I am happy.” It’s a knee-jerk response because I know it should be true. I lived and made it back to the overworld. We rescued Krystal and Poppi and Yasmine. I have a warm bed in a house full of love and people who have accepted me as their own. I sit beside a true friend, my first since pushing away all of mine after my parents died.

She gives me a knowing look, glancing at my ring, which my fingers are subconsciously twisting. Traitors.

“You’ve been different since we’ve gotten back,” she continues. “We all have, but whenever Luke comes up, you get sad. I know I always joked about you two getting together, and then I felt awful about it because apparently he kidnapped us—”

“He didn’t kidnap us,” I reiterate. That was the conclusion the police jumped to because Luke disappeared at the same time as us. I couldn’t tell them the complete truth, but I was sure to clear Luke’s name. Though him disappearing didn’t help. “We teamed up to save you. But along the way, things got kind of…personal. I started falling for him.”

“Well, you should know he started falling for you long before that. The whole pretending not to know your name thing, plus all the times I caught him looking at you in the office. He was trying to get your attention. I felt like I was watching the world’s slowest office burn unfold.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she says. And then, to my complete shock, she reaches into the canyon-deep pockets of her cardigan and pulls out something I thought I’d never see again:

My dagger.

I take it from her, fingers curling around the familiar hilt.

“Luke snuck into the hospital when you were still unconscious. He gave me this to give to you. I know I should have given it to you as soon as you woke up, but—” She sniffles. “You were so fragile. I had just gotten you back from the literal brink of death and everyone thought he was the bad guy. I didn’t know what to think. But you deserve the truth, whatever it is. I didn’t read it.”

She nods at the blade. Tied around the hilt with what looks like a dress shoelace is a piece of paper. When I untie it, I realize that neat script covers the inside. It’s a letter.

Dear Brie,

Where to start? Do I apologize again for crafting half-truths and lies about myself this past week? Do I beg for your forgiveness until my ink runs dry? Do I scrap the letter and risk showing up when you wake so I can kiss you one last time before leaving?

I would, but then I might never leave.

I’m sorry for it all, but not for this: I made a deal with my brother to get us back. But this is my deal—not yours. No matter how much I want to continue our time together, I’m not going to tie you to a fate you don’t deserve. I did it to my mother, my brother, myself. I’m not doing it to you, too.

I want you to have this dagger. If you ever need to find me, you know how. But you’re better off if you don’t.

You are incredible and beautiful and brave. Don’t forget it. I certainly won’t.

Thank you for being my companion and the best co-rescuer I could ever want (or, admittedly, not want). I owe you my life and my humanity.