Spells for Forgetting(39)

My eyes refocused in the mirror until I could see Emery sitting up on my bed, her eyes squinted. “Hey,” I said, too loudly.

She was in one of her huge sweatshirts, her hair messily falling into her face, and there was a book open on the bed beside her. She’d fallen asleep in here.

“Where were you?”

I turned my back to her and snatched the wet shirt from the floor, wiping at my face. I dragged it from my forehead to my throat. “Working at the orchard.” I tossed it into the laundry basket before taking a pair of sweatpants from the drawer.

Emery was quiet for a moment. It felt like she’d been watching me more closely by the day. “This late?”

She didn’t believe me because she wasn’t stupid. Emery knew me.

She slid down the edge of the bed and rubbed her face with her hands, still getting her bearings. But once she was on her feet, she walked right into my chest, waiting for me to put my arms around her. Her hot cheek was like an iron against my skin.

“You’re cold.”

When she looked up into my face, I leaned away from the light.

“What’s wrong?” She sounded awake now.

I let her go and pulled on my sweatpants. “Nothing. I’m tired.”

When her hands reached for me, I tried to slip free of them.

“August.” She turned me around to face her. “What’s going—” Her eyes went wide as my face caught the light. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Did he do this?” She reached for me again, taking hold of my jaw. “August,” she said, louder.

“You’re going to wake up my mom.” My voice was a hoarse whisper. That was the last thing I needed.

“I don’t care.”

I stared at her, not moving. “It’s not a big deal,” I said, exhausted.

“We need to tell my parents.”

I went rigid. “No.”

“Then Jake. He can do something about this, August.”

The pit that lived in my stomach made me feel like I was going to vomit. “You swore you wouldn’t,” I reminded her.

Emery watched me through the dark, her mind weighing the cost of breaking the promise she made me. I could see it. But telling Jake would only make things worse for me and my mom with my grandfather. I wasn’t going to do that to her before Emery and I left.

“It doesn’t matter. In a few months, we’ll be gone,” I said.

It was a secret we hadn’t breathed to a single soul. We’d scraped enough money working at the orchard and the pub for the next year and would spend the next twelve months traveling until we found a place to land. A small suitcase, an old jeep, and about a hundred places we wanted to go. That was the only plan.

“What do you think your grandfather will do when he realizes you’re gone?” she whispered.

“I won’t be here to find out.”

Her eyes traveled over my face again.

“Don’t say anything to your parents. Or Jake.”

“I don’t know.”

“Please.”

She was silent a long time before she turned toward the door and I stepped around her, holding it closed.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting something to clean that up.” She pulled the door back open, disappearing into the hallway, and I listened as she opened the cabinet in the kitchen.

I let out a painful breath, finding my reflection in the mirror again.

I looked like him. My dad. Every picture that filled Mom’s photo album. The older I got, the more people said it, and it was always laced with a shameful whisper about what he’d done. But I couldn’t even find it in me to be angry that he’d left us. Couldn’t blame the bastard for wanting off this island.





Twenty-Two


    EMERY


The letter haunted me through the long, slow hours in the shop.

With only a few days left in the picking season, the town was overrun by the second ferry and the bell on the door hadn’t stopped ringing. I punched the keys of the register, refilled the herb canisters with new supplies and kept my hands busy with one eye on that cracked window.

That starling had been more than an omen. Something dead had woken.

What August did.

I’d never really let myself think it—that August could have actually hurt Lily. Even after he’d gone, leaving me to fend for myself on Saoirse. Even when the whole town was convinced he was a murderer. I’d defended him.

But the letter in my pocket told a different story.

As the minutes ticked by throughout the afternoon, I considered a thousand scenarios. That maybe there was an accident and August was there. Or maybe he’d found Lily before anyone else did and lied to keep it from looking like he was involved. But none of it explained why he would have lied to me.

As soon as the last customer was out the door, I pulled off my apron and locked up the shop without bothering to do the receipts. There was only one person on this island I could go to with that letter. Nixie. Even if she’d lied to me, too.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone more than a day without talking to my dad. I’d avoided the pub and he hadn’t stopped in the shop, which meant he was treading carefully. Mustering up the courage to come and test the waters. But I was still angry, and I didn’t know how long it would take for that fire to die out. It was too many years of lies. Too many nights being tortured with the not knowing. Right now, Nixie was no more than the lesser of two evils.