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My mind is overwhelmed with all the lies, Wolfe’s and my mother’s and mine.
“I left Wolfe because he lied to me. And you’ve lied to me, too. If you want me to stay here and continue down this path, you have to tell me all the things you’ve been keeping from me. You have to, Mom.” My head is throbbing, and my eyes beg for sleep. “Tonight, I need to rest. But soon.”
“Deal,” she says, stroking the quilt over my arm. She kisses my forehead, then stands. Landon’s sea glass sits on my bedside table, shiny now from all the hours I’ve worked it in my fingers. She picks it up and hands it to me.
“Not all love hurts,” she says, turning off my bedside lamp. But I wonder if that’s true, because what I felt for Wolfe was a physical ache I carried in my chest even before I knew he had used me to get to my mother. And it hurt not because it was bad but because my happiness was no longer my own.
It was dependent upon the survival of another person.
My lungs and my heart had to shift, rearrange themselves to make space for all the love, and even then, it was more than I could hold, a constant pressure against my ribs.
Still, I nod and take the sea glass, roll it around between my fingers. The door clicks behind my mother when she leaves.
Landon is the only one who hasn’t lied to me. The only one who has given me the truth and trusted me to handle it, even if it hurt. A life with him won’t be so bad. Maybe it will be a relief to be with someone and not have that ache in my chest. Maybe it will be a relief to not feel so much.
I don’t know when my hand stills and the sea glass falls onto my quilt, when my mind finally gives up the day and falls into darkness.
But even in sleep, I remember the way Wolfe’s voice sounded as he called out for me. I remember the way he struggled against his father to get to me. I remember the anguish in his tone when he said it was impossible not to fall in love with me, like it was the worst thing he’d ever done.
Even in sleep, I remember.
twenty-nine
When I wake up, Ivy is sitting at the bay window that looks out over the Passage. The day is clear and cold, and condensation has beaded on the glass. The oaks and maples are starting to drop their leaves, bare, spindly branches reaching toward the sky. I wipe my eyes and slowly sit up.
“You’re here,” I say.
“I’m here.” She doesn’t look at me.
I want to tell her I’m sorry, to fix what I broke between us, but I’m so glad she’s here, so relieved. And I can’t apologize for what I did, because I’d do it over and over again if it meant waking up to her staring out my bedroom window, angry and hurt.
“I’m so happy to see you.” I say it because it’s true, and after last night, the truth is all that matters.
She turns to look at me then. “I might never forgive you for what you did.”
I nod and look down, scrunching the quilt up in my fingers. “I can live with that. What I can’t live without is you.”
She raises an eyebrow. “You aren’t going to apologize?”
“No,” I say, exhaling. “Because I’m not sorry. You’re my best friend, Ivy, and I’d use all the dark magic in the world to keep you here. It was selfish of me, and I accept that. But you deserve the truth, and the truth is that I’m not sorry.”
Ivy nods slowly, then looks out the window again. “You apologize too much, anyway,” she finally says, and it hurts because Wolfe said the same thing to me.
He saw me, the same way Ivy does. I never thought I’d meet another person who saw me for anything more than the role I’m meant to play, but Wolfe did. He saw me and he lied, and I have to find a way to reconcile those truths.
“When I told you about missing the rush and getting help, you said my life was tainted. But it isn’t, Ivy. It is full and complicated and terribly messy, but it isn’t tainted. I know you don’t accept that kind of magic, and you don’t have to, but I promise you it hasn’t put a stain on your life. Your life is beautiful, just as it was before.”
Ivy nods, swallowing hard when her eyes start to glisten. “I was terrified when I woke up. Terrified of you and whatever magic you used to save me. I still am, and I’m still working through it.” She pauses and looks down. “But I’m glad Wolfe saved your life. And I understand why you did what you did. I think one day, I might be glad for it.” She says it so quietly I have to lean in to hear it, and it breaks my heart that she thinksshe needs to feel shame about being alive. That I once felt that way, too.
“I think you will be.” Ivy’s form at the window blurs, watery and indistinct. But here. Still here.
“Your mom told me what happened.” She moves from the window to the side of my bed, and it feels good having her closer. I try to keep my composure because I don’t want her to have to comfort me after what I put her through.
“And?”
“And I think you made a hell of a mess.”
I nod because she’s right. I pull some tissue off my bedside table and blow my nose. “I know.”
