Page 98 of Within These County Lines

There’s no recognition on his face. I skip across the room with my arms extended. A final rush of hope. Words aren’t enough. The ultimate test is touch. If I can just touch him . . .

I launch myself forward for a jump hug, as I did when he asked me to senior prom and when he won his first playoff game after our training.

But this time, rather than being caught, I slip through his arms—and his body.

I land like scattered marbles on the dining room floor. My breathing hastens until I’m seconds away from hyperventilating. Light blots color my vision. My ribs squeeze my lungs like a constricting snake.

Murray is still talking. But not to me. He’s practicing for a conversation that will never happen.

The curse never broke.

There are no second chances.

Not for Xander.

Not for Dara.

Not for me.

Not for anyone from within these county lines.

41

“Xander!” I yell, trudging through the woods of the Gregor Preserve.

I haven’t seen him since dinner at the Bean. It’s okay if he’s hiding from me. But it’s not okay if he’s mad at me. I’ve never seen an angry Xander. It might be the final sight that’ll turn me to stone, a remnant of Penango trapped in the mountains until the end of time.

“Xander, please!”

The farther I go, the thicker the heat becomes, the denser the bushes, the more the trees blend together like a mirror maze. I don’t know how I’ll find my way back to my truck.

But lucky for me, Xander doesn’t believe in blending in.

Then something bright in the distance—white shoes, high white socks, yellow-and-white striped shorts, and a red tank top. A strawberry banana milkshake of a boy. I cross my fingers that his mood is as sweet as he looks.

I slow my jog to a walk as I approach him. He sits on a moss bed, back against a tree trunk, knees curled up to his chin. His skin is slick with sweat as usual, but his expression isn’t normal. His sullen face is wrung out like a damp sponge, empty and unsettled.

“Hey, Stetson,” he says softly.

“Hi.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been MIA.” He sniffs.

I exhale for what feels like longer than the time it took to walk here.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s been a weird few days.” I drop down beside him. Our shoulders touch. “I should be sorry for letting you down.”

“It didn’t work, right?” He flips his hands in confusion. “How did it not work?”

I shake my head. “It didn’t work.” I don’t even try to sugarcoat it. Not everything can be sweetened.

“What options do we have left?”

I shrug. “We tried to get the tree to wake up. We tried to fix our hearts on the trunk. I don’t know if the curse is—”

“Permanent.”

I swallow. “Yeah.”