In so many ways, watching Grace’s childhood home burn to the ground felt like an ending. Parts of the roof collapsed into her old room, dispersing a puff of bright sparks into the midnight sky as flames scavenged for fuel, roaring and hissing and angry. But as the door to the ambulance slammed shut and my lungs gulped clean oxygen through a plastic mask and Cameron and Porter were hauled away in police cars with flashing lights, I found a beginning.
I just wished it hadn’t taken me so long to get there.
“House fire Morningsong Avenue, suspects in custody. One victim, teenage girl, smoke inhalation, first-degree burns, minor lacerations.” An EMT radioed the message to the hospital, and I thought of my mom and dad, how pissed they were going to be, how I’d ruined everything again. Another EMT adjusted my mask and squeezed my hand, reading my mind. “You hang in there. Don’t be scared. You’re safe now and everything’s going to be okay.”
Everything’s going to be okay. Tears gathered at the corners of my wide eyes as I listened to her words, realizing in one gigantic swoosh how long I’d been waiting to hear them. They settled over me like a blanket, and I closed my eyes, relaxed my body, and finally let myself fall asleep.
***
Bright white light. Too bright. For a second, I thought there’d been some mistake and I’d actually died, but then my eyes adjusted to mauve speckled wallpaper. Something told me that if there was a God, there was no way he’d allow mauve speckled wallpaper in his heaven.
“Greg! Greg!” My mom screamed toward the hallway for my dad, who rushed into the room ashen and stubbly and sad. He clutched at his heart as though his hand resting above it could prevent any further damage.
“What’s happened?” he asked, stricken. But then he saw me, saw my half-open eyes, and his face crinkled into the biggest smile I’d ever seen. I searched for signs of disappointment or anger but couldn’t find any. My mom’s face was lit from within. They weren’t mad. In fact, they looked happier than I’d seen them since before Grace died.
“Sweetie. Oh, sweetie.” My mom rushed to my side and squeezed my hand, shaking her head back and forth. “You scared us. We’re so, so lucky. What would we do without you?” Tears clung to her lashes as she looked to my dad as though he held the answer. His eyes were red and watery.
“Porter? Cameron?”
I couldn’t bring myself to ask an actual question.
“In custody. The police are going to have questions, honey. But they made it out and so did you.” My mother’s voice was matter of fact.
“They hurt…I mean they killed…”
“Shhh…we know. Porter has already told the police everything. You’re safe now, and they won’t ever come near you again. That’s a promise.” My father’s eyes had a fierceness in them that I’d never seen before.
“They’re not well, Kate. At this point, we just have to hope that they’re punished to the fullest extent of the law and that they get the help that they need.” My mother shot my father a look that meant he should change the subject. Fast.
So he called the doctor in, and my injuries were discussed. I was lucky. The burns were minor. I had a few scrapes and bruises, and my lungs would recover. They didn’t have to tell me what might have been. We all knew. The reminder hung in the air and settled on each of our shoulders. But instead of slipping backward into the throes of survivor’s guilt, into the questions and unfairness that suffocated me after the death of my best friend, I embraced my second chance, thankful that I was out and thankful for everyone who waited so patiently at the other end.
“So the nurses tell me you have some visitors.” Dr. Buchanon patted my knee, a warm smile spreading across her face. “It seems that you are one very popular young lady.”
My dad gave his patented look—raised eyebrows and surprised frown while nodding the head—and my mom winked at me.
“Are you up for it? Because I can pull some strings and lift the three visitors per patient rule. Or I can send them all packing.” She winked.
In a past life, I would have pulled the scratchy blanket to my chin and rolled to my side, shutting out everyone who cared, but in this life, I didn’t even consider it.
“I’m up for it,” I said, smoothing my hair and sitting up a little straighter.
“Well, you’ve got yourself a good one, that’s for sure. Your boyfriend’s been here for hours. Poor thing looked like he’d been hit by a bus. Hang on to him. He’s a keeper.” Boyfriend. Liam? Was he here? A warmth started in my chest and fanned out to my arms, my legs, my cheeks. Over the past eight months, he was the one person who had made it his goal in life to protect me. Everything he’d said, everything he’d done, all of it had one purpose—to save me from myself. I hadn’t been ready to see that before, but now after almost dying in a fire, after almost losing him to Bethany, I was finally ready.
My parents made some uncomfortable throat-clearing noises and slipped out after the doctor, explaining that they’d be within shouting distance. I knew that meant they’d have ears to the door, but I didn’t care. I kind of wanted to keep them close, as crazy as that might sound.
I sat up straighter in my bed. Craned my neck. Eager to see Liam with my own eyes. Wondering what I’d find when I looked into his.
And in walked Bradley Farrow.
I deflated like a forgotten beach ball.
I’d spent so much of my first year at Pemberly Brown praying Bradley Farrow would notice me or throw me a smile or even slam into me by accident in the hallway. And here he was. But instead of the heart-racing, face-flushing reaction I’d spent first year trying to hide, it had disappeared. In its place was warmth, sure, but not on my cheeks. Yes, he was gorgeous. Yes, I’d discovered how truly amazing he was beneath all the confusion and complication, but he wasn’t Liam.
“I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now, but I came as soon as I heard,” he said. “I just…I just wanted to say that it’s kind of unfair how life works, and I guess I hope that you of all people might understand that.” His golden eyes pierced into mine. “I know everything’s all messed up and you blame me…”
“No.” I cut him off. “I know now. I know none of this is your fault. Or really anyone’s. Nothing is going to bring her back. Nothing.” I looked down at the bandages wrapped tightly around my hands.
“You need to know this will never happen again. Truly. The Sisterhood has been disbanded. My dad says they’re going to fill in all of the tunnels. It really is over.”
You know how sometimes when you get a really bad splinter and it bothers you for days and days until finally somehow you get it out and you feel this crazy rush of relief that the pain is gone? And then right after you’re kind of surprised by just how relieved you are, almost like you hadn’t realized how much it had hurt in the first place.
That’s how it felt, knowing that the societies were finally dead.
Pain that I hadn’t fully understood evaporated, and I felt lighter. I held on to the rails of the hospital bed, sure that I was going to float away.
But then I saw the sadness that still creased the lines around Bradley’s mouth where his dimples used to be, and I realized he was still stuck at his first beginning. Alistair had just died, and Bradley was still lost in the black cloud of grief, trying to find his way out without his best friend. Despair tightened my chest just thinking about what lay ahead for him—the long, bleak process of trying to figure out a way to live your life with a chunk of your heart missing. I could only hope that maybe he’d learn something from me. And who knows, maybe I’d actually be able to help him on his way.
“I need you.” The words sounded broken, discordant coming from Bradley’s mouth. “I mean, I need a friend.” He spoke to the floor as though he were ashamed to need help, to not be able to do this alone. “And I can’t think of anyone who could possibly be the friend I need right now. I can’t think of anyone…” he lifted his eyes to meet mine, his lashes like fans, “but you.”
The tears caught me off guard. I wasn’t much of a crier, never had been, hopefully never would be. But once they started, I couldn’t turn them off again. They ran down my cheeks in their narrow rivers, the drops falling to my lap and darkening the blanket.
I nodded as I swiped them away, new streams replacing the old. Nodded and sniffled and cried even harder when Bradley rushed forward for a hug. I could use all the friends I could get. I realized that now. And there was no shame in depending on other people. I couldn’t possibly do this alone, and neither could Bradley. And right then, we had each other.
“I guess I should go,” Bradley said, pulling away. He smiled then, and it took me back to first year when my heart about burst out of my chest at that smile. Something told me that a guy with a smile like that was going to be okay. I mean, how could he not be? “You have, like, a million people out there, and you know how Pemberly Brown feels about waiting.” We laughed then as I wiped away my remaining tears, and Bradley waved good-bye.