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“You can see me?” Wendy asks, smirking. “Good.”

“Yes,” I say shakily. “I can see you.”

The mask she wears now—cocky, a bit snarky—is one I witnessed in her life as well, but it’s not the version of her I knew. The facade always fell when it was just the two of us. It seems the mask has become her identity since passing.

Aurora stands to the side, her head ducked low, as if she’s trying to give us some privacy. It must be through her magic that I can see Wendy, and I’ll have to ask later how she’s doing that. She’s more powerful than she knows, going from feeling completely without magic to this.

I guess there’s a reason Jewel searched Aurora out after all.

“All I ever wanted was to say goodbye to you, you know,” Wendy says. “That’s what all of this was about. And you wouldn’t⁠—”

This is exactly why I avoided her at the end, and why I’ve been avoiding her ever since. The guilt. Loving Aurora made me feel guilty. Wanting her made me feel guilty. And wanting to move on certainly did.

I can’t keep carrying this anymore, and Wendy can’t keep holding her grudge. It’s not healthy or safe.

“I know. I’m sorry. I should have been there when you asked for me, and as much as I tell myself it was to keep you safe, it was selfish. Immature. I was afraid to see you like that. That’s the truth.”

She asked to see me on her deathbed, and I couldn’t be there for her. She inhabited the house, and I still refused to say goodbye. Now, faced with losing a new love and letting go of what I’ve lost, there are no other options.

She’s here. I can’t look away. I don’t want to. It may have taken me too long to get here, but I’m ready now.

“Well, thanks for telling me the truth. It took you long enough.”

“That’s why I’m here now,” I say, smiling shakily. “To say goodbye, and to apologize. To make up for all the time it took me to say it.”

I fight the urge to say more—that I should have kept her safe from my magic. That guilt will never die, but bringing it up now makes it about me.

She doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “Thank you. I”—her gaze turns to Aurora—“hope you can be better now. I was never mad about you two being together, I swear.”

“It’s all right if you were.” I chuckle. “Moving on is hard. It took me a long time.”

“Yeah…” She moves to Aurora next. “You can take your time, too, you know. With your dad.”

Aurora’s eyes widen. “How do you⁠—”

“You literally never shut up about him, and all I can do is listen.”

Aurora rolls her eyes, but there’s something playful about the interaction. It seems like they’ve been getting along. How much did I miss when avoiding the cottage?

Wendy looks around. “I think I’m ready to go, as long as you won’t miss me too much.”

Aurora smiles—actually smiles—and a tear runs down my cheek when she looks at me. They’re both looking at me. Two people I’ve cared about so deeply.

“You know what?” Aurora says. “I think I will—miss you, that is. But that’s okay. We’re allowed to miss people.”

I give her a slight nod.

When Aurora wraps her arms around the ghost of my past, she disappears. The house settles, and finally, a burden lifts from my shoulders.

Epilogue

AURORA

SIX MONTHS LATER

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Sterling asks as we step through the too-clean, too-bright furniture store.

“Never been more ready.” I put my hands on my hips and turn to face him. “You’re the one who invited me. Are you having second thoughts?”