“Hannah!”
Riley’s voice.
Her silhouette appears through the trunks, chasing after me, her dark curls wild in the wind. Part of me wants to stand and keep running, but my traitorous heart still skips a beat at the sight of her.
She stops a stride away, out of breath. The moonlight catches the tears on her cheeks, making them look like silver scars.
“I need you to understand,” she says between breaths.
“Understand what? How you lied to me for two years? How you gave me acurseand then abandoned me to deal with the consequences?”
“I only found out I was a witch three weeks ago.” Her voice is strong. “One day, I was normal, and the next, I was setting things on fire. Hurting myself. I nearly burned the whole house down in my sleep.”
That explains the marks on her arms.
I can feel the unnatural heat radiating from her, and when I look into her eyes, there’s a tinge that wasn’t there before. Red-gold, like a phoenix.
“Magic doesn’t always manifest,” Riley continues. “My mom isn’t a witch, and neither was my grandma. I’m the first since Rebecca to have power, and she showed up at my door like she’d been waiting for it. She took me to Elizabeth’s to teach me how to control it before I—” Her voice breaks, and she draws a shaky breath. “Before I hurt the people I love.”
I swallow hard. “You could have told me.”
She steps closer, and her familiar lilac scent envelops me. At least that hasn’t changed. “And say what, Han? Turns out I’m a witch and I have to leave you to join a coven and learn how to control my powers?”
I scowl at the sarcasm. “Why did you give me that journal?”
In the faint moonlight, her expression crumbles. She comes to sit beside me on the big oak branch, close enough that I can feel her body heat. “I didn’t understand what it was. I just knew it was an heirloom I was supposed to keep safe, and I wanted you to have something meaningful. I thought it was romantic to give you poems written in a book that had been in my family for over a century.”
I blow out a breath, my anger deflating. “And I burned it.”
“That’s my fault. I hurt you.”
I grimace, remembering the bonfire and the bitter satisfaction of watching our memories turn to ash. “And I…might have acted melodramatically.”
She cracks a small smile, which I can’t help returning. For a moment, we’re just us again—two girls who fell in love over a hot summer, who spentour mornings tangled in bedsheets, who planned a future that will never exist.
But reality crashes back as tears spill down her cheeks. “Now you’re caught in a war between ancient witches, and it’s my fault. I never meant for this to happen. If I hadn’t given you that journal—”
“You didn’t know it was cursed,” I say automatically. It sounds like forgiveness, but I don’t know why I said it. I don’t forgive her.
Riley reaches over and places her hand on my knee. Her touch is warm and gentle. “I’ve missed you like crazy. I’ve wanted to call you and explain everything.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I couldn’t. This is bigger than us, bigger than what I wanted. Rebecca made that very clear.”
“So you chose them over me.”
“I chose keeping you safe over being with you. I can’t be with someone who isn’t a witch.” Her hand closes over mine, and I let her take it despite my anger. “I still love you, Hannah.”
The words I’ve been desperate to hear feel hollow. “Love doesn’t matter when we can’t be together.”
“I know.” She leans closer, her free hand coming up to cup my cheek. “But I want you to know how I feel.”
I meet her eyes. She’s so beautiful it hurts. Her presence is so comforting and familiar that it’s like putting on my favorite pajamas after an excruciatingly long day. But there’s a deep pain behind my ribs, like she took my whole heart with her when she left, and now she’s here trying to stuff it back into place.
“Riley,” I whisper, not sure what to say or how I even feel.
She makes a small, soft noise.
