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“You can fuck right off,” I tell her. “I’m not dying for you.” It’s a bold thing to say, since I think I’m more than halfway there already.
“No, Ava, listen,” Widow says, shaking her head. “You might not die, you’ll just—”
“Be like Pete?”
“No,” Widow says quickly, closing her eyes like she always does when she’s trying to be patient with me. “Grandma said that there was one who lived. They were just . . . they were empty. They didn’t feel anything.”
She opens her eyes, gives me one of her sad smiles. “Would it really be any different?”
My heart plummets downward to meet the darkness inside me, the thing that drains me every day, poisoning my life and killing my soul in ways that magic can’t. Part of me could get out, this is what Widow is telling me. Part of me could be free of this, finally.
“Will it h-h-hurt?” I ask, pulling my sleeve down over my hand and wiping my face.
“I don’t know. But Ava”—she stops, reaches out, cups my cheek—“you’re going to be an amazing Zedeker.”
It breaks me. I sob, falling forward as she catches me, heartbeat stuttering against hers. I cry into the hollow of her neck, her silver hair falling around us both. She rocks me, patting my head as my whole body shakes with grief. I’m mourning myself, the life I never had, the one I didn’t get because I was born with a weight inside me, black as night and heavy as sin. I’ve never had hope, but I can have what Widow has—resignation.
I lean back against the tree, and nod.
Widow holds my face in her hands. “Thank you,” she whispers, her own tears falling now. “Now I’ll get to be a mother.”
“Shit,” Hailey says under her breath, watching the road as headlights approach, then slow.
“Hailey?” Widow asks as a truck pulls into the driveway. “Who—”
“It’s Ethan,” she says under her breath. “I knew I shouldn’t have texted him about the damn cat.” She rests the egg against the trunk of the tree and walks to meet him, raising her voice when he jumps out of the truck. “I told you I had it under control.”
Ethan’s livid, crossing the yard toward her without looking at us. “Where is it?”
Widow glances at me, stands, brings the shotgun to bear on Ethan. “Welcome to Restoration Acres,” she says. “Can I help you?”
He looks from the gun to Widow’s face, rolls his eyes. “Whatever, lady. You’ve got—”
“Ethan,” Hailey says calmly. “I told you I had it—”
“And I told you I need that fucking cat, right fucking now, Hailey!” He screams at her, crossing the distance between them in two strides, his finger in her face. Widow keeps the gun on him, looks at Hailey for direction, who shakes her head.
“You can’t have my cat,” I say, grabbing the tree, pulling myself to my feet. “Widow, don’t let him—”
“Only thing he’s doing is leaving or dying,” she says calmly, gun still on Ethan.
“Fuck off, bitch,” he says.
Hailey slaps him. It connects solidly, his already swollen jaw twisting with the impact. He goes down on one knee, holding his face, looking up at Hailey, stunned.
“You stupid fucking—”
“Careful how you talk to her, boy,” Widow says, keeping the gun on him as he gets to his feet. He looks between the two of them, Hailey resolute, with her arms crossed. Widow stone-faced and armed. All the ease that has followed him his entire life has fallen away; Ethan just realized he’s not going to get what he wants. But he’s not scared yet. He can still fall back on charm.
“Look,” Ethan says hesitatingly, trying on a smile as he holds both hands out. “I’m just here for the cat.”
“We don’t do adoptions,” Widow says, cocking the gun. Ethan takes a step back, finally understanding that he has no power here. He shoots a panicked look at Hailey. Caught between the two of them, Ethan looks to me. My mouth fills with something, and I spit, move toward him. Widow hesitates, not sure what I’m going to do, or who to put the gun on.
“You can’t have my cat,” I tell him, hobbling forward. “Why do you even—”
“Think about it, kiddo,” Widow says, choosing to keep the shotgun pointed at Ethan for now. “Who wants a spray-painted stray cat that bad?”
“Oh,” I say, eyes traveling to Ethan, someone I knew was mean but hadn’t guessed was truly cruel. My cat is proof of what he’s been doing, training larger, stronger animals to kill the weak and the lame. And that proof crawled to me, begging for help from a girl who had already tried to take him down once. Ethan locks eyes with me, both hands in the air. He mouths, Please.
