And somehow, without meaning to, I’m already part of it.
My breath catches as the kitchen door opens. I nearly spill my third cup of tea, which is ridiculous, because Finn is in the room with me. Nothing can happen to me here. That’s why we’ve been hiding away in here for the last hour.
And anyway, it’s Zane. He belongs here.
Just as I’m about to attempt a smile, he crosses the room and stops in front of me.
Then he opens his hand.
And there it is.
The locket.
My brain just… blue screens. Like it can’t process joy that fast. My chest locks up. My eyes burn. I stare at it as if it might be a trick. If I reach for it too quickly, it’ll vanish again, and I don’t think I can live through that a second time.
“Oh,” I breathe, which is not a sentence but feels adequate.
“I went back,” Zane says quietly. “Checked the cabin again. I wanted to have a better, calmer look, and I’m glad I did.”
My hands shake as I take it from him. The familiar weight hits my palm, and my insides collapse in on themselves in the best and worst way.
“It was under the bed,” he continues. “Kicked into the corner. Probably when you were packing.”
Probably.
Possibly.
I don’t care.
As long as someone hasn’t taken it.
The second the chain touches my skin, my chest caves. Relief floods me so hard it knocks the air right out of my lungs.
“Oh wow,” I choke. “I thought… I really thought…”
I don’t finish, because my throat closes and my eyes fill, and suddenly I’m crying in a way that’s deeply uncool and extremely sincere.
I press the locket to my chest like I can absorb it through osmosis. Evie herself might climb back into me through it and tell me everything’s fine and I’m doing great and also please stop apologizing for existing.
“I’m sorry,” I say into my hands, because apparently that’s my reflex. “I didn’t mean to… I just?—”
“Hey,” Zane says gently. “Don’t.”
That’s it. Just one word. Firm enough to stop me. Soft enough not to hurt.
I look up at him, tears streaking my face, probably red and blotchy and not at all mysterious or alluring. He looks wrecked. My crying is doing something violent to him internally.
And then I do the thing without thinking.
I stand and step into him and wrap my arms around his middle.
Zane freezes.
Full system shutdown freezes.
For one horrifying second, I think I’ve messed up. That I’ve crossed some invisible line. That he’s going to gently pull back and apologize for letting me lean too hard on something I shouldn’t.
Instead, his arms come up slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid that if he moves too fast, I’ll break or disappear.
