Chapter Twenty-Six

When I wake, I’m in the middle of a big, fluffy bed piled high with white comforters and pillows. It’s Angela’s cabin, bright lacquered log walls covered in rustic frames holding wilderness scenes, windows open to the green pine boughs outside. I prop myself up on my elbows and inspect my white nightgown, unable to recall where or when I got such a strange piece of clothing. As I’m contemplating the contents of the bag I dragged up here, there’s a creaking in the doorway, and Trey appears.

He’s perfect. His face may not be clean-shaven, but his wounds are gone. He smiles at me.

This isn’t real, is it? I don’t say it. I don’t need to say it. He understands every word. He nods and slips a hand behind my neck, pulling me up to him in the most real kiss I’ve ever felt in my life. His lips burn mine, etching a permanent impression there. When he pulls away, I reach for him, wanting more, and when my hands graze his skin, I hear his voice, clear inside my head.

I’m moving on. Wanted to tell you something, though. I shouldn’t have denied it.

No, I say. Don’t. Say it to me when you’re holding me for real. Because you’re not moving on. I won’t let you.

You’re not moving on. My eyes flicker open. Unlike in my dream, this time the room is bathed in darkness. There is no strip of light under the door; the only brightness comes from the moon peeking through the pines. It’s late. My skin feels clammy, all except for my lips, which still burn from the kiss.

I won’t let you.

I stare at my hands, wondering what I could have meant. And all at once I remember the fireballs in the forest. The bright explosions that bewildered me and Justin.

They were mine. I created them myself. With my powers.

I pull off the covers and I’m wearing only a long thermal T-shirt, but I don’t think about the cold. I run barefoot down the stairs and out into the night as a chorus of owls hoots a welcome. I rush to the darkness, letting it envelop me, no longer afraid of what it might bring. I do not fear what is out here. Somehow, even in the darkness, I can find the place I’d last seen him. Take me there, please. Take me to him.

“Trey,” I whisper.

And suddenly he is lying before me, in the clearing, the moonlight making the sweat glisten on his forehead and bare chest. It’s the only thing that glows, because there is no shine left in him. His eyes are closed, but they flicker a bit when I approach him.

“Hey, you,” he mumbles.

“Hey,” I say, drawing his head onto my bare knees.

“I thought you were gone for good,” he says.

I wipe a tear from my eyes. “I thought the same thing about you.”

I think he tries to shrug, because his body tenses. “Soon.”

I shake my head. “Look, did you really mean what you … didn’t say?” I realize it’s stupid. I dreamed it. But there’s no time for it now. “Do you love me? Because I think I love you. Actually, I know I do.”

His mouth spreads into a smile. “Since I first met you. You and your attitude and your fancy-shmancy fishing pole.”

“What? Are you serious?” I sputter through tears. I can barely see him.

“You think I did all that for your momma because of her? It was for you, kid. Always you.” He reaches up to touch my face, but his hand falls back. I know he is too weak.

I know I don’t have much time. “I guess you were right about me. I am stronger than I’d thought,” I whisper, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand. His forehead is strangely warm when I press my fingers against it. “And there’s this thing I think I can do.”

Just let this work, I pray as I close my eyes and concentrate on the one thing I know I really want.

Epilogue

FOUR MONTHS LATER

I whisper my secrets to the river. I know she can hear them. I know that she loves me, and that I will see her again. I blow a kiss across the waves, and I know, I just know, that on the other side, she will be there to catch it. That she has always been there.

And that the river always gives us a chance to wipe away our past mistakes and start anew.

I look up to the branches hanging over me. It’s a perfect day in September, warm but not hot, and the leaves and branches are still vibrant green with life. Up the embankment, Justin and Angela are setting up the tent. Yes, a tent. We’re going fishing. And I was the one who suggested it. Mostly because homecoming is next weekend and I’ve made tuxedos and high heels mandatory. I think of my boyfriend in a tuxedo instead of dirty jeans and my heart begins to flutter.

I climb up to where Justin and Angela have just about everything under control. Angela and Justin are piling kindling, piece by piece. They are so cute together, it makes me wonder why they never got together sooner. Oh, right, there was a little something standing in the way. Me.

Angela looks up at me and wipes the sweat from her brow, clearly excited. I know the outdoors makes her a little giddy, but I’ve really never seen her as happy as she’s been for the past few months. “You know, scary story time is on,” she says. “I’ve got a good one, Honey Bunches, so you’d better grab your teddy bear.”

“I’m right here,” a voice says behind me. It’s Trey, and he’s gnawing on a Slim Jim and grinning down at me. He is now addicted to them. Apparently they didn’t have them back in his old life. He’s being corrupted by a lot things, though. Wii, Hostess Sno Balls, the Fishing Channel. He’s gained weight, which, even though it makes him more of a teddy bear, has also made him better-looking.

He’s also had to get used to wearing shoes. When he walks to meet us, he stumbles a bit in his hiking boots, then straightens himself. He looks from one of us to the other. “What’s going on?” He holds up the Slim Jim. “Okay that I swiped this from the food bag?”

It’s only then I realize that Angela is also staring at him, openmouthed. I nudge her to stop. She says, “Sure, knock yourself out.” Then, when he walks away, she mutters, “God, he is so hot. Where did you find him, again?”

I grin at her. “You’re not going to steal him from me, too?”

She grins back. Angela the boyfriend stealer. She spent weeks apologizing to me, until I finally got it through her head that I was okay with it. More than okay. I was happy. And it wasn’t just because I had Trey. Some things are just meant to be.

As the sun begins to slide behind the trees, Trey puts his arms around me and pulls me close. When he says “I love you,” I know that this, us, is one of those things.

“Who’s going to make the fire?” Angela asks.

“I’m on it,” I say, holding up two sticks.

Angela and Justin look at each other and burst out laughing. “I’ll believe that when I see it,” Justin mumbles.

“Prepare to be amazed,” I say, crouching over the fire pit.

I concentrate on wanting it. Two minutes later, a good-sized fire is crackling in the pit. My cousin and my ex-boyfriend exchange glances, sufficiently impressed. Trey leans over me and whispers, “I call that cheating, kid.”

I grin. “How is it cheating, using my innate Mistress abilities?”

He bows. “Oh, of course, Your Royal Highness.”

When I try to smack him, he grabs my hand and pulls me into another embrace. His kiss is hotter than any fire I could make.

Later, we all sit in a circle, toasting marshmallows, and when it’s time to tell stories, I’m the first to volunteer. Because I have a really good one. But this one is true, and best of all, it has a happy ending.