Page 74 of We Already Dug the Grave

“Okay.” I nodded. “Will you hold me? For a little longer?”

“I’ll hold you forever,” he said. He pulled me close, and we fell to the soft grass, nestled together. Tears slid down my cheeks as Casey, my once best friend and now something more, rubbed my back and whispered over and over that it was all going to be okay.

After a while, I thought I might believe him.

* * *

Casey was still with me when I awoke in the pink light of morning. We were no longer tangled together, but I faced him as he slept. He appeared so peaceful.

Out here, with only the two of us, maybe I could believe him. Maybe it would all be okay. Maybe everything had only gotten twisted up, but as long as only bad people got hurt, it didn’t matter. I reached to cup his cheek in my palm, when somewhere on the path, the snap of a twig jolted me upright.

I held my breath as I waited for one of my aunts to appear around the corner and yank me to my feet. Would they be able to look at me and know I’d already broken the promise? That it took less than a day for me to tell our secret?

My breathing hitched.

A moment passed, and nothing. Whatever I’d heard, it wasn’t my family.

“Casey,” I whispered, realizing that in the fugue of last night, there was something we hadn’t considered. His bike.

He had to wake up and move it before Ruth saw it. Or Hattie-May—her quiet brand of disappointment was even worse, and she was the early riser.

Casey could push the bike to the end of the driveway and ride it back to the house. Say he was coming over for breakfast.

It’s not like it would be the first time he’d done this. More than once, he’d escaped his daddy’s wrath by sleeping in our front porch swing, showing up after the aunts were in bed and disappearing before they woke. But it had been a while—years—since his last sleepover. And back then, I wasn’t harboring a secret that could send all of us to prison.

“Casey?” He was so handsome, sleeping in the grass. I gave him another gentle shake, and forced a lightness I didn’t feel into to my voice. “Hey. Wake up—we’re going to get busted.”

Casey didn’t stir. I pushed his shoulder, shaking him harder. “Casey, wake up.”

There was something weird about how he moved. “Casey?” My voice cracked as I said his name, panic blooming inside.

A new feeling took hold—worse than dread. Worse than sadness or despair. It was as if I’d been ripped open and hollowed out.

Reality seized me. How had I not noticed the blue tinge of his lips?

“Casey!” I grabbed each of his shoulders and shook him again, this time violently. Nothing.

“No.” My face crumpled, but there were no tears left in me. “Please. Please no.”

I pressed my palms to each of his cheeks.

He was so clammy.

So cold. How had I not noticed?

I remembered then—our kiss at the bonfire. The flash of Sight that had come out of nowhere. The unearthly chill that came over me. So, so cold.

No. This couldn’t be because of that. This wasn’t fair.

I hadn’t meant it. I wasn’t peering into his timeline. Not on purpose. No. I’d never read the person I loved. I’d never doom Casey to be my cursed thing.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. No wail or sob, just a silent plea that I was wrong.

Because this was my fault, and I couldn’t bear it.

Casey was dead.

Chapter 28