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My blood heats as Will’s gaze travels the length of my body. “Remind me to thank Tessa if I make it downstairs.”
“If?” I raise an eyebrow.
He answers my question with a grin that makes me think of the last night we were on the roof-deck together.
A long moment passes. A million words pass through my mind, but none are right.
“So,” he says.
“So,” I say.
The air is thick with the promise of desperately needed rain. Thunder cracks in the distance.
“I heard you applied to nursing school. Congratulations. That’s ... great.”
“Thank you, but—”
“Hope, wait. I just have to say this before I lose my nerve. I know you don’t want to be with me anymore. I messed it up. I just couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.” He runs a hand through his hair. “And telling you one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I love you, Hope. And I will love you for the rest of my life. Even from a distance.”
A swell of warmth settles in the space behind my eyes. I want to tell him that I love him too. That loving him feels like an adventure and a piece of home all at once.
The words catch in my throat. Once I tell Will, there’s no going back. There’s no safety net.
“Maeve left me one final tea recipe,” I start, my voice thick.
He looses an awkward laugh. “Okay, not what I was hoping you’d say.”
I put a finger to his lips. “She didn’t tell me what it was for. Just said, ‘You’ll find out.’ I tried to make it, but I was missing one ingredient. I thought Maeve did that on purpose, because she wanted me to go out and see the world.”
“I’ll go with you. We can flower hunt—”
“No, Will. I found the flower. You brought it to me.”
“The blanchefleur?” His brows draw together. Air, thick with the promise of rain, weaves between us. “It was half-dead, though.”
“It just needed to find a place where it belonged—and maybe a bigger pot and a steady watering schedule.”
Will laughs, a genuine laugh now, which fills long-darkened parts of my heart with light. “That sounds like Maeve. Did you brew the tea?”
I shake my head. “I’m not going to. I’ve been thinking that Maeve’s magic was never really about the teas or the plants. I think her magic, or intuition or whatever, was people. She knew what we all needed and helped us give it to ourselves.”
I think of Bailey, who left for art school and has posted every moment of her joy on Facebook. I think of Ashley and Vicky, who last I heard were backpacking through Europe. Of all the others.
And my brain-tumor patient. They needed hope. And Maeve gave it to them.
And me. Maeve talked to me about forgiveness so often, and I thought she meant Brandon’s forgiveness. She knew all along that it’s not his forgiveness I needed.
I needed only my voice—my forgiveness, my permission, my ability to believe in myself.
For two years, I buried my head in the sand—hid from life and played it safe—built a world where I had as little to lose as possible.
I still lost.
Because maybe it was never about building a life safe from loss. Maybe that’s impossible, regardless of how small you make your life. The universe isn’t safe. Bad things happen to good people. And none of that is a reason to stop living.
