Page 174 of Just One Little Bargain

“What?”

“How many people have been helping you in this town.”

I frown. “They always help.”

“Exactly.” Her brows lift. “They always have. You’re the one who finally stopped fighting them about it. That’s how Brindlewood has always worked. Somebody’s roof leaks; three people arrive with ladders. Someone gets sick, there are casseroles on the porch before noon. You’ve spent years being the person who shows up for everybody else, but you never seemed to notice that they’ve been trying to show up for you too.”

“I noticed.”

“No, honey. You tolerated it when you couldn’t stop them.” Mom pats my hand. “And before you start arguing, I’m not telling you that you need rescuing. But there’s no prize for making every difficult thing harder by doing it alone.”

For once, I don’t have an argument ready. My life has never been as solitary as I insisted it was. I had friends, family, an entire town incapable of minding its own business. None of them appeared because Milo taught me how to need people. They’d been there all along. I was the one standing in the doorway with my arms full, insisting I could manage.

Mom studies me for a moment. “And as for Milo . . . I don’t know enough about what happened to tell you what to do about him.”

“That’s unusually restrained.”

“Don’t get used to it.” Her mouth twitches. “You’re stubborn enough to fight a faulty boiler, an insurance company, three contractors, and that ridiculous woman who left you a one-star review because Vermont had mosquitoes. But when the thing you want is personal, you become very philosophical about accepting defeat.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“You call it being realistic. Sometimes it is; other times it’s fear wearing sensible shoes.”

“Mom.”

“I’m serious. Some things are worth accepting because there truly is nothing left to do. Others you fight for because losing them without exhausting every possibility would haunt you far longer than failing ever could.”

I can’t argue because she’s right.

“Love doesn’t always come with a sensible argument. Sometimes the only thing you know is that the thought of walking away feels more wrong than the risk of staying.” Mom lets go of my hand. “If Milo is truly gone and there’s nothing in this world you can do, I’ll sit with you through every miserable day that comes after. Daisy will too.”

The certainty in her voice strips something bare inside me.

“But if there’s even one thing you haven’t tried because you were frightened of what it might cost, then I think you already know whether you’re going to be able to live with that.”

The kitchen clock ticks above the doorway. Daisy spoons coffee into the machine, filling the room with the bitter, familiar smell of grounds. Mom reaches for plates, satisfied that she’s said enough.

I stare at the water ring beneath my glass.

Milo never said a bargain couldn’t keep him here. He said he wasn’t even sure it would be allowed, then refused to risk my soul finding out. Krell’s face flashes into my mind. The confidence with which he talks about contracts. The cold amusement whenever anyone assumes they understand the rules better than he does. He bargains for a living. More importantly, he is still here.

Every sensible part of me objects.

I push back from the table, chair legs scraping across the floor.

Mom’s eyes widen. “Evie?”

“I have to go.”

Whenever I pictured bargaining with a demon, the inn stood at the center of it. I’ve poured years of myself into it. But for the first time, wanting something else more doesn’t register as a threat to everything I built.

Chapter 50

Evie

The north road empties out once I pass the river bend, and Brindlewood thins behind me in porch lights and familiar houses until even those disappear, leaving nothing beyond the windshield except the narrow reach of my headlights and black fields pressing close on either side. I check the clock again.

Milo arrived a little after nine the night I summoned him. I think. I’d been more concerned with the fact that a demon had appeared in my living room than with checking the exact time. I’ve got half an hour before the deadline.