The song that’s playing goes quiet, but I don’t think much of it. I assume Lexie is changing the channel until she turns to face me.
“Lex…” There’s a hint of warning in Felix’s tone.
She bats at him without taking her eyes off me. “So, whatever happened between you and Owen?”
The question is so blunt, so out of nowhere and without preamble, my first instinct is to deflect. I could ask her what she means or simply say nothing, shut down the conversation before it starts, but there’s something in Lexie’s face that gives me pause. In this reality, she’s been a girl capable of harming others, someone driven by a desire for more power—someone I haven’t considered a friend. But in this moment, I’m reminded of the girl I knew in the other timeline, the one who accepted me into the fold without question, who smiled easily and was generous in spirit. Guilt tugs at my heartstrings. How long has it been since she’s changed? Did it begin the night we could’ve lost Crystal? Or was it subtler than that? Is it Felix who’s bringing out the side of her, or has it always been there?
Felix catches my eye in the rearview mirror, but I give a tiny shake of my head. I don’t need him to intervene. “I thought we might have something. I guess I was wrong.” It’s not quite the truth, but it’s not as far from a lie as I would like it to be. Despite what I decided the night my parents announced they were renewing their vows, I haven’t approached Owen again. I want to believe we’re supposed to be together, but what if I’m wrong?
Lexie squints like she’s trying to discern from the look on my face if I’m leaving anything out. “You two seemed to be getting cozy before—you know… Before the circle was unbound. I was surprised that things didn’t last long. You seemed to be really into each other. And you—I don’t think I saw you like that with Fox for a while.”
I bite my lower lip, trying to think of a way to end the conversation. “Sometimes things just don’t work out.”
Lexie nods, and I’m glad to see she finds this an acceptable answer. What I don’t anticipate is Felix piping up.
“How can you say that?”
Lexie shoots me a confused glance before turning to him. “You certainly have a pretty intense opinion considering you didn’t want me to bring it up.”
From my spot in the backseat, I can see the tension in Felix’s jaw as he clenches his teeth. When he speaks, I can tell he’s choosing his words very carefully. “I just don’t understand how after everything that happened you can think there’s not supposed to be something between the two of you.”
The wrinkle of confusion etched between Lexie’s eyebrows deepens, but I know exactly what Felix is talking about. The original keeper of my secret, the only one I told about me ending up in this alternate reality, Felix knows my history with Owen. He also knows about how Owen spontaneously began remembering a life he didn’t live—the life we shared in the other timeline. I can’t explain what happened. I don’t know why Owen remembers what he does. At first, Owen was convinced there was a reason behind it. He thought that no matter what reality we found ourselves in, we were supposed to be together. But things have changed so much since then. If our last conversation is an indication, he is as much at a loss for these transplanted memories as I am.
I’m relieved when Felix pulls his car to a stop in front of my house. I unlatch my seatbelt and have my hand on the handle before Felix even has a chance to throw a farewell over his shoulder. Before I can push the door all the way open, Lexie’s fingers feather against my shoulder.
“Look, I know I’m not a psychic, so don’t laugh at me, but I have a feeling about you two. I think whatever stopped you before can be overcome.” Lexie offers a small smile. “I get that it doesn’t mean much coming from me, but I really think the two of you are meant to be.”
I manage to nod, and even that is a struggle. My lungs squeeze tight in my chest, and I fight to take in a breath as I climb out of the car and cross the yard to the front porch.
It’s true Lexie is no psychic. She has no special insight into past, present, or future. Then why did she feel such a strong urge to tell me she thinks Owen and I belong together? Is it possible she heard about our interaction at the coffee shop this weekend? If so, could she just be saying this as a way to somehow hurt me, embarrass me? I shake away the thought. I can’t see Felix spending time with someone like that. I have to believe Lexie’s words weren’t malicious.
After this weekend, I’m hesitant to believe what she’s saying is a sign. Maybe it’s more like a nudge. I promised to give Owen time, but maybe that’s not what’s best for either of us. I need to tell him everything, but I’m not sure how. Even worse, I have no idea what he’ll say. All I know is I have to try—I can’t give up on us yet.
Chapter Thirty-One
Sasha
I open my freezer and stare blankly at the sad cardboard boxes stacked within. I know I should eat, but I have no desire—not that any of these so-called meals has the ability to kindle one. I suppose I’m just hoping that one of the names will stick out, despite the fact that I know how similar Salisbury steak and chicken Parmesan taste.
It’s been a struggle to eat since Brody’s visit. Every time I look at the spot on the couch where he sat, my stomach swoops with shame and dread. This isn’t how things were supposed to go. In my mind, contacting the Amaranthine would only cause Krissa pain. The reality couldn’t be farther from the truth. I never expected Brody would threaten Elliot and Anya. My revenge was supposed to make me feel better, but all it’s accomplishing now is making me feel sick.
My front doorknob twists and my heart rate ratchets up. I close the freezer door and scan the vicinity for something to use as a weapon. I could, of course, cast a spell for defense, but depending who is on the other side, it could be easily deflected.
It’s not until the door swings open that my tense muscles relax. A sigh of relief escapes my lips. “Elliot.”
He grins, closing the door behind him. “Of course. Who else would it be?”
I force what I hope looks like an easy smile and cross the apartment to meet him. “What’s up?”
“It’s about dinnertime. Have you eaten? I was going to see if you wanted to come out with me.”
Although I’m not hungry, the thought of getting out of this apartment is appealing. “You’re just in time. I was about to make dinner.”
He pulls a face. “Glad I saved you.”
I don’t bother feigning hurt at his implied insult. Elliot knows I’m a disaster in the kitchen. Despite my magical prowess, I’ve never been good at even simple domestic spells. “What did you have in mind? I noticed an Italian place the other day that might be good.”
“I’ve got another idea.” He jerks his head in the direction of the door. I don’t bother asking him to elaborate. Sometimes he likes to pretend he’s all mysterious, and I find it’s best to play along with him when he’s in that mood, otherwise he whines about how difficult I am.
I take care to lock the door behind me despite the fact that if anyone truly dangerous wanted to get in, a simple lock wouldn’t stop him. Our feet clatter down the metal stairs that open up to the parking lot behind the bookstore. Elliot’s car is parked beside mine.
“I’ll drive,” Elliot says, making a beeline for the driver’s side of his car.
I could point out that he’s stating the obvious, since I don’t know where were going, but I hold back. Usually I tease Elliot as easily as breathing, but I’m not in much of a mood for it right now. Guilt clenches my stomach. He’s in danger. My best friend is in danger because of me. I can’t engage in our usual lighthearted banter because I’m afraid of what the Amaranthine might do if they don’t get what they want soon.
If Elliot notices anything off in my behavior, he doesn’t mention it. Once we’re both buckled in, he puts the car in gear and starts out of the lot. We drive in comfortable silence until we’re off Main Street. I know Elliot is about to talk before he even opens his mouth. When he starts to shift in his
seat and rub the back of his neck, it’s a clear tell. “I know I’ve said this before, but I’m really glad you’re reconnecting with Anya.”
I nod, not sure where this is going. Elliot knows I’m the one who contacted the Amaranthine, but it seems he hasn’t put together how my interest in making nice with Anya is an attempt to make others think I’m putting my past behind me.
“It’s precious, right? You know, the people we have left?” Elliot keeps his eyes on the road as he speaks. “I know I’m glad to have the two of you. I’d be lost without you.”
I pretend to brush a tear from my cheek. “Aw, dry your eye,” I tease.
“No, I’m serious. Family is important.”
The measure of playfulness that had bubbled within me evaporates. I nod solemnly. “Of course. It’s very important.” What else am I supposed to say? If I disagree, Elliot will see it as more than suspicious. I only wonder why he’s talking like this. It’s not entirely out of character for him, of course, but tonight the topic seems loaded. I consider asking him what’s got him so riled up, but I think better of it. What if he got some bad news about his uncle Nate? That might be why he’s suddenly so concerned about the family he has left. If that’s the case, I want to give him the space to tell me in his own time. There’s no sense pushing.
We drive in a heavy silence for the next several minutes. The area we are in is familiar, but I suppose the streets of Clearwater are becoming that to me. Familiar. Not quite like home. I don’t know that I’ll ever think of this town that way. But at least I’m slightly more comfortable here now than I was when we first arrived.
When Elliot finally pulls into a parking lot, I groan my displeasure. “Allegro Bread? Are you kidding me? Don’t we eat here enough?”
Elliot spares a glance in my direction just long enough to stick out his tongue. “Oh, come on. The food’s not bad.”
He doesn’t exactly address my questions, but I let it slide. I know him well enough to be sure there’s a reason he’s chosen this place, and based on the fact that he won’t come out and say it, I can infer some possible reasons. The most obvious is that there might be an employee or regular customer here that he thinks is cute. That’s something he wouldn’t share with me—not because it would be weird due to how close we are, but he doesn’t know how I would react if I learned he had a thing for an ordinary girl. I’m not sure how I’d react to that scenario.
After Elliot parks, we head into the restaurant and stand in line to order our food. I watch him closely the whole time, but he doesn’t appear to be giving any undue attention to anyone in the vicinity. Still, he does seem hyperaware of our surroundings. He’s on edge about something.
It’s not until we get our food and find a table that our conversation picks up again. “I’m thinking about getting a job.” As he says it, Elliot watches me to gauge my reaction.
I gape, sure I heard him wrong. “A job? Why?” It’s not as if the two of us need money. In the Devoted, our way of life was mostly communal. While families had their own separate homes and money for purchases outside the community, everything we possessed was shared. When everyone died, Elliot and I were left the soul heirs of everything belonging to them. Technically, the land and buildings in the town where we grew up are ours, but it’s not as if we could live there. The place is both too empty and too full of memories. And, frankly, even if we didn’t have more than enough money to support ourselves, we have abilities in a world full of ordinary people. There’s not much we can’t get even without funds.
Elliot purses his lips. It’s clear he was prepared for my reaction. “I think it’d be a good way to meet people.” I open my mouth to respond, but he talks over me. “The only people I really know are you and Anya. Well, I suppose there’s Krissa and her circle, but I don’t exactly expect them to accept me with open arms.”
I roll my eyes. “Like you want to be friends with them anyway.” The darkness sweeps over my mood before I can dial it back. I take in a breath and try again, forcing a smile. “Sorry. Okay, so you want to get a job? What on earth are you going to do? What kind of marketable skills do you even have?”
Elliot holds up his hands, a slightly bewildered look on his face. “I have no idea. It’s just a thought. But it’s a big world out here, and I’m sure I can find something to do. And if I don’t exactly have the qualifications… I bet I can persuade someone to give me the job anyway.”
This time my grin is genuine. “That’s my boy.” I’m about to start listing off job suggestions—pool boy and rodeo clown topping the list—when a familiar form catches my eye. Anya. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised she’s here—she seems to like this place as much as Elliot does. I lift my hand to wave for her attention, trying to convince myself as I do it’s because ignoring her would draw Elliot’s suspicions, but I freeze with my arm halfway up. Anya’s not alone. I attempt to draw in a breath, but the air around me seems to thicken and I can’t gulp it in. There’s no mistaking my sister’s companion. It doesn’t matter that it’s been thirteen years. A hundred could have elapsed, and I would still recognize her. “Misha?”
Anya’s eyes widen in surprise when they land on me. She didn’t expect me here. Her gaze slides to Elliot as she approaches our table, a knowing look on her face. Misha is temporarily obscured as she follows behind our sister, but once Anya reaches the table, Misha finally catches a glimpse of me and Elliot. She nearly drops the tray holding her food, and it’s only with Anya’s help the food makes it to the table unscathed.
Misha’s unburdened hands fly to her mouth and moisture gathers in her eyes. “Sasha?” Her voice is high and tight, like she’s trying desperately to hold herself together. “I didn’t think… Oh my…”
Unable to form a coherent thought, Misha abandons speech in favor of leaning across the table to pull me into a tight hug. I’m frozen. I don’t know what to do. Thirteen years is a long time. Anya said she found Misha, but I never expected this. Somehow, I never actually expected to see her again. Suddenly, I’m seven years old again, listening to my parents explain how it’s best for our community, for our way of life, if Misha goes away to live with the ordinary. My parents sat stony-faced and told me my big sister wasn’t good enough to live with us anymore.
I believed it. I had no reason to doubt my parents, to doubt they knew what was best. They told me to forget about Misha, the sister who braided my hair and played my silly make-believe games with me, so I did. I buried her memory into the back of my mind and shoved it down forcefully any time it would surface. I never thought I’d see her again, but here she is.
My body can’t react to her embrace. At once I want to fiercely hug her and roughly shove her away. Although I know they’re gone, I can’t help wondering how my parents would react to this moment. Would joy and affection swell in them, or would they be ashamed that their ordinary daughter dared to show her face in their presence? I asked about her only once after they sent her away. It was after Anya disappeared, after I was told she had been killed. All I remember is that Mom and Dad seemed oddly unaffected by the news. In my seven-year-old mind, I suppose I understood they must be in shock. When I asked if they missed Anya, my mother quickly replied that of course they did. She went on about how Anya had so much promise, so much to give to the Devoted. She lamented that Anya’s abilities wouldn’t strengthen our number. Then I asked about Misha—I asked if she was sad about her middle daughter. I’ll never forget the venom that crept into my mom’s voice. She insisted she had only two daughters, me and Anya. It was as if Misha’s failure to manifest abilities was a reason to erase her from existence.
If my parents were here, they probably would have gotten up and walked out by now. But here I stand. Somehow, the fact that I haven’t left when my parents would have tells me everything I need to know in the moment. My arms snake themselves around Misha’s back and I squeeze her with all my might.
“I’ve missed you,” Misha whispers in my ear. “Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thoug
ht of you.”
The fact that I can’t say the same stabs me through the heart like a dagger. Tears sting my eyes and I do my best to blink them back. I can’t echo her sentiment, but I can tell her something true. “I’m glad you’re here.”
It’s a long time before Misha and I finally release each other. She fawns a bit over Elliot, about how grown-up he looks. He looks as happy as if we had found a member of his own family, which, I suppose, is kind of what has happened.
When we all finally take our seats, our food sits ignored as Misha answers question after question about where she’s been for the last thirteen years. She tells us about the family she was placed with, about how there had clearly been some kind of spell work involved to make them believe she had lived with them for years. She went to normal high school and then on to college. She’s a social worker at a high school. She’s also married, which is the only thing I find as surprising as her appearance here. I have a brother-in-law, and he’s ordinary—just like my sister.
The four of us laugh and smile and brush away tears as they form. The whole time, a thought nags me: If Seth were still alive, I wouldn’t be having this reunion. Misha would still be lost to me. Would having him still here be worth never seeing my sister again? In this moment, I can’t answer that question.
But there is one thing I know for sure: As pleased as I am to see her again, Misha’s reappearance right now only puts her in danger. Brody already knows she exists and that we found her. There’s no way he doesn’t already know she’s in town.
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