Lauren’s mouth fell open and then tightened into a white line, and she strode after her brother with clenched fists. Wide-eyed Anna followed in her wake.

I hesitated a moment before also pushing out through the heavy wooden door. While the pub stayed brightly lit, mist hung throughout the rest of the village, and when we stepped onto the path leading back to the inn, the white fog faded out the swaying cypresses and the sea. Goosebumps rose on my exposed skin.

Ahead of me, Lauren caught up with her brother’s longer strides. “You can’t just walk away from this conversation.”

He stopped abruptly and turned back on her, crossing his arms. “It’s not going to happen.”

Lauren mirrored him. “Oh, yes it is.”

“It’s not your choice to make.”

She scoffed. “And who made it yours? Or do you think you have more sway than the two of us? Because I’m pretty sure Anna and I are also on the deed.”

“Nothing happens to the land unless all three of us agree.”

“Or unless we vote.”

Mike’s voice shot up. “This isn’t a fucking democracy!”

Lauren’s fury matched her brother’s. “Yeah? I don’t know why you think your say carries more weight in this family than mine and Anna’s. You’re barely even here. You don’t know what this family is—”

Mike’s eyes narrowed into slits. “I have always been there for you.”

“What, with money? Since when is that a cure all? Can you plaster green paper over broken hearts or use it for company? Do enough zeroes cure loneliness, or keep your sister in school, or your mother from depression?”

Mike spun around. “I did what I had to do to keep us going! Where were you when Dad died? Were you making arrangements and comforting Mom and finding out about gravestones and life insurance? No, you were crying in your room!”

Her eyes widened and her face turned splotchy. “You still want credit from ten years ago? I was fourteen!”

My head whipped back and forth as they shouted, but at this point Lauren stormed off. Anna stopped long enough to hiss “Good fucking job” at her brother, before running after Lauren.

We stood alone on the hill. “I’m sorry.” The fog swallowed my words, and I tried again. “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t realize this would happen.

He said nothing.

“So...what happens now?”

He turned to me with a twisted smile. “Why? Want to know if your dig’s actually going through?”

“Mike.” I took a step closer. “That’s not what I meant.”

He took a deep breath and pushed his hands through his hair. “I don’t know. Do I screw up our family forever by refusing to allow the excavation? Or do I sign, and then risk...”

“Risk what?” I asked, when he didn’t go on. “Mike, what’s so wrong with digging at Kilkarten?”

He pinched the skin between his fingers, furrowed his brow and breathed out. His lips parted as he began to say something. I held my breath.

And then he paused and the wrinkles on his forehead disappeared. His eyes widened and focused on me. “There’s one other way.”

I shook my head, not following him.

“You could tell Lauren you’re no longer interested. Then it doesn’t matter whether I sign or not.”

My stomach fell away. “But—then I have no chance at excavating Kilkarten.”

“You never had a chance at it.”

“No, I didn’t, not in the beginning—but now I do.”

We faced off, that awful truth between us.

His jaw tightened. “And if I said I wouldn’t sign? That you’re still not going to excavate, so it doesn’t matter one way or the other?”

“But that’s the thing.” My voice floated out, and I felt like the words and thoughts were detached from me emotionally. “You would sign. Because you don’t want your family to hate you.”

He took a step forward. “Do you want to put me in that position?”

I shook my head slowly, feeling like I was in a dream. Or a nightmare. “No. But that was always the reason. That was always why I came to Ireland.”

“Natalie—”

“Don’t.” I took a step back and my hands came up. “Just—I need to think. I just need a minute to think.”

So for the first time since that night that at the dolmen, we slept in our own rooms. Or didn’t sleep. Instead, I tossed and turned for hours. After midnight, Mike knocked. I sat up, gathering the blankets to me and shivering. The moon hung low and large in the sky. I didn’t answer.

Instead, I lay back down in the dark and watched the moonlight slide across the ceiling. My heart didn’t stop beating. I thought about writing to Jeremy or Skyping Cam or my mom, but this had to be my decision.

I just had no idea what the right choice would be.

I didn’t know how you made that decision.

I felt like I’d barely closed my eyes before I was awake again.

I still didn’t have an answer, but I knocked on Mike’s door anyway. I needed to talk to him about this. Or at least see him.

But he didn’t answer. I didn’t find him downstairs, either. So I pulled on my running gear, ran through my stretches and headed outside. The mist hung over the hills, fading out the swaying Cypresses and the sea, and raising goosebumps on my arms and bare legs. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the fresh, grassy air, and started jogging. I’d be warm soon.

But I’d barely started when I saw a figure obscured by the fog.

It was Lauren, coming in from the path to the village. She still wore last night’s black dress, her hair piled up in a messy bun. My mouth parted. “Oh.”

She flushed furiously and lifted her chin. “I was out for a walk.”

Hey, if that was her story I wouldn’t challenge it. “Sure. I’m just...going for a run.”

I couldn’t help it. My mouth quirked and a snort slipped out.

She scowled at me. “What?’

I shook my head.

She jutted out her chin. “Go on, ask.”

I didn’t really need to ask. “You slept with Paul last night?”

She stared at me, and then she laughed until she pressed her hand to her head. “Yes.” She fished a clip from her purse and put up her curls. “It’s not that weird, is it?”

“No. I mean...you’re not that related.”

“Oh, God.”

I smiled wryly.

She let out a breath. “So, did Mike calm down?”

“Um. That’s something we’ll probably have to talk about later. I haven’t really talked to him since last night.”

She made a face. “I sort of forgot that this might, uh, have ramifications for you too.”

She didn’t know the half of it.

Actually, maybe she did. His whole family seemed to think we were a thing. “Hey—I just wanted to say, Mike really does care about all of you. And I don’t think it’s fair to say he isn’t trying, because he loves you all.”

“How can you defend him after you just—figuratively—stuck a knife in his back?”

Now, that was a bad analogy. Much too strong. Besides— “You were standing right there, Longinus.”

“What?”

“Um. Longinus? One of Brutus’s co-conspirers. Helped him assassinate Julius Caesar?”

She snorted, and then it dissolved into helpless laughed. “I’m surrounded by crazy people.”

They didn’t let you into grad school unless you were crazy. “I guess, because even though I’m, um, clearly in Mike’s bad grace’s right now—I really like him.”

Lauren shook her head. “You’re even more screwed than I am.”

“Trust me.” I stared out at the hills. “I know.”

When I came to the coast, I stopped. I stared out at the water, watching the waves roll in from the south, white crests so far below they appeared as pencil lines. I could understand where the fair folk came from when I stood here, in a small corner of the world where humans seemed foreign and strange and unnecessary. I closed my eyes, breathing in the salt and sea, the coolness of rain on the way and freshness of wind combing through the grasses.