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“Fights?”
Callie is so naive that I omit the darkest words to spare her.
“That’s the least of it,” I say. “They look for girls.”
Callie goes quiet, afraid to ask.
“Olivia.” The name makes my stomach turn at the memories. “We had Olivia with us until a year ago.”
“What happened to her?”
“She is dead.”
I don’t explain. Callie doesn’t ask.
I exhale and slide down on the boat bench, my hands locked behind my head as I study the sky for a moment, trying to drown out the memories of that fucked-up night.
And when I look down at Callie, her eyes are roaming my body and dart away quickly when I catch her.
You like that, petal?
But there is no bitterness at the thought. Only regret.
She tells me more about the Change.
I study her when she talks, looking away. Her nose and cheeks, shoulders and chest are already burnt by the sun. I curse Maddy who didn’t properly insist on sun protection, and now Callie’s skin is not perfect. Neither is her hair, unbrushed and messy and frizzy unlike the flat-ironed perfection from before.
But I like her better this way. Here, she is closer to me. Now, we might be back on good terms.
The sun is setting behind the island. It colors the ocean with an orange glow and reflects on Callie’s skin. This is the most peaceful I’ve felt in a while.
The bright colors reflect on the water and the wet sand strip on the beach, left by the low tide, turning it salmon-orange
“We missed dinner,” I say.
Callie meets my gaze. It’s soft. It’s forgiving. It lingers on me longer this time. Longer still.
I don’t look away. The air between us burns with something that makes my heart clench the way it did back then, four years ago, when she wasn’t yet with Crone, when I sent her those stupid flowers, when she batted her eyelashes at me and blushed when I called her petal, and I felt like something magical in my life was unraveling.
Until Crone ruined it all.
Callie’s pretty lips stretch in a little smile as she finally casts her eyes down.
“Yeah,” she says, nodding. “Dinner.”
That’s human kind—existential dilemmas and basic instincts.
“Yeah,” I mimic her, and we both smile.
Fuck me.
It took four years and a world war to see Callie Mays smile at me again.
19
KAI
The next dayfeels like a new beginning.
