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“She’s been sending you ladybugs. Have you seen them?”
“That’s her?” His voice quivers.
She asks Vincent more questions. He answers, his back straightening as Hope’s rounds.
“He could still come,” she whispers and sips the tea. “Right?”
“Yeah, Hope. He could.”
Maeve and Vincent speak for something like an eternity. Hope finishes her tea and shifts forward onto her toes, a boxer ready to jump into the ring.
The first flower curls into itself. Hope makes a small sound that echoes loudly in my chest.
Vincent returns to his place in the circle, his forehead slick with sweat, eyes bright. Maeve’s gaze skims over Hope. Roaring fills my ears.
Hope takes an incremental step forward. “Maeve? Is there ...” She glances up at the star-flecked night, at stars that are fifteen hundred light-years away. So close, and yet forever unreachable.
A small headshake.
“But you said—he ... ask again.”
Another midnight bloom folds closed. Hope’s attention snaps to it. “Oh, God.”
My fingernails dig into my palms. This is Maeve’s doing.
Maeve repeats the affirmations that signal the end of the night. The others join, their voices uncertain rather than exhilarated.
“I need to get out of here,” Hope says, her voice rising above the roaring. She rushes out of the garden and into the woods.
I’m right behind her.
“Are you okay?” I ask once she’s slowed to a walk. “Maeve shouldn’t have told you to expect—”
“I found the locket Brandon gave me,” she says, her breath jagged. “He still didn’t come.”
“You—when? You didn’t tell me.”
She turns tearstained eyes up to me, and somehow I know where the locket came from—who had it all along.
“I’m so glad you brought it,” Maeve says, appearing from the shadows. “And I’m sorry Brandon didn’t come tonight, but I never said he’d come if you found the locket.”
“You—” A breath puffs out of her. “You said if I brought the locket, I’d find the thing I was most looking for. Brandon is that thing. He was supposed to come.”
Her words echo through the hollow darkness, and a part of my brain goes cold. It takes less than a heartbeat to shake the jealousy away. If Hope lets me into her heart, I’m sure she’ll have more than enough space for both of us.
“I said you’d find the thing you’ve been looking for. But Hope, didn’t you find it?”
“No.” The words release the emotion Hope’s been holding back. She covers a single broken sob with the back of her hand. The sound carves out a hole in my heart. “I needed to tell Brandon ‘I’m sorry.’ I can’t do that if he doesn’t—”
“That’s bullshit.” I only realize the outburst belongs to me when Hope’s head swivels in my direction. Accusations scorch up my throat, coming to a screeching halt at the tip of my tongue. “You and your cryptic shit. Of course, Hope believed Brandon was coming. Why else did she spend all that time looking for a locket to bring to you.”
I’m on the verge of giving away too much, saying the wrong thing that will reveal what I really feel about Maeve. Only the heartache etched in Hope’s face makes me stop. Everything else fades away.
“It’s okay, Will,” Hope says, her voice small as her arms wrap around her. As if she needs to physically hold herself tight to keep from falling apart.
My arms ache with the need to scoop her up, to take her away from here.
“It’s not Maeve’s fault,” Hope says. She looks up at the sky, the universe, before settling her attention back on me. “It’s mine.”
