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HALLIE SAT CROUCHED in the muck for too long, her eyes fixed on the mouse. If Kat came back, it wouldn’t really be her Kat, would it?
Hallie couldn’t stop the cry that broke free of her throat. She couldn’t stop the wrenching sobs that followed either, just like she couldn’t fix anything. Not anymore. Never again.
She would never be free of the guilt.
***
TWO YEARS AGO
Hallie squeezed her eyes shut against the words pouring from Kat’s mouth. She hoped Wyn truly was asleep or passed out in the back seat. She couldn’t bear to have her only two friends hate her.
“You’ve done a lot of stupid things over the years,” Kat hissed, “but this takes the cake, Hallie. You can’t find a Fae to bargain with. What do you think Wyn would say?”
Hallie glanced at Wyn, but she still seemed as out as she had been when they left the bar.
“You can’t expect to solve this with some magic spell just because you’re worried now.” Kat slapped the turn signal, and Hallie flinched. “You should have just listened to us in the first place.”
“You don’t understand. My parents already think I’ve been accepted.” Hallie hated the pleading in her voice, but she couldn’t seem to stop it, just like she couldn’t stop the hurt, angry tears. Why had she thought Kat would understand? She’d gotten into every single one of her grad school choices.
“Well then, maybe you should have thought of that before you only submitted one application. Or maybe before you told everyone you’d get in. Or maybe you should’ve just told your parents the truth.”
Hallie winced. The truth? That her chances of getting into Sabine were low? That the program was too small and there were too many applicants?
It was too late. She’d already made the mistakes. And Kat might not have realized she’d already called for a Fae. She couldn’t stop one from showing up now, if it did.
“You don’t understand,” Hallie said again, crossing her arms and glaring out her window pointedly.
The lights flashed by outside, and she could feel Kat’s anger flooding off her in waves. Yet Hallie wouldn’t break the silence, and Kat wouldn’t even glance at her.
Kat blew by a stop sign, then rolled to a stop at the next light, the red light painting her face the color of her fury. In no time, the light was green and Kat was turning.
Headlights.
Tearing metal.
Blood.
Darkness.
All of it, Hallie’s fault.
***
PRESENT
“Hallie?” Wyn crouched down next to Hallie where she rocked in the mud. A little pixie fluttered off. It had probably led Wyn to her. “What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”
Hallie couldn’t look at her. She squeezed her eyes shut, finally feeling the hot tears coursing down her cheeks, and shook her head. “It was all my fault. And I can’t even bring her back.”
Wyn took a deep breath, then dropped into the mud with her. “Who are you talking about, Hal?”
Hallie buried her face in her arms, pulling her muddy knees closer to her body.
“Is it Kat?”
Hallie sobbed harder.
“It is.” Wyn sighed loudly, louder than the rain that was now pouring down the leaves, through the branches, drenching the two girls. “Hal, it wasn’t your fault.”
“You don’t get it!” Hallie shot back, nearly shouting. “It was my fault she didn’t see him!”
“What are you talking about? Hallie, it was an accident. That guy messed up. It was on him. How can you take the blame for this?”
“I made her mad! I did a stupid thing, said stupid things. We were fighting. If I hadn’t riled her up, if she’d been able to focus on driving, she’d still be here!” Hallie couldn’t stop the tears coursing down her cheeks or the sobs wracking her, blurring her words in the drunkenness of pain. “You never knew about that fight.”
“Yes, I did,” Wyn said softly.
Hallie’s wracking sobs settled. “What?”
“I heard it all, Hal. I knew about the fight. I knew why you fought. I was right there, even if you thought I didn’t hear it. It still wasn’t your fault.” Wyn wrapped an arm around Hallie’s shoulder. “But what was your fault was what came after.”
After. The bargain. The drifting.
It really was Hallie’s fault.
“I know,” Hallie said softly. The tears continued coursing down her cheeks like a broken dam. Years of pain, of guilt, of shame, all leaving her body at once. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Wyn.” Hallie made to stand, to move away from her friend, her words coming softer now. “I’ll understand if you never want to talk to me again. If you’d rather stay here. I deserve that.”
Wyn stood with her, grabbing her elbow before she could step away. “Oh no, you don’t. I’m not going anywhere. I just...” Her voice cracked. “I want my friend back, too.”
“I can’t bring Kat back.”
“Not Kat. You.”
Hallie finally looked at her. “How can you forgive me?”
“Because we both lost someone. You didn’t mean it. You were in pain. But, Hal, pain is meant to be shared. That’s what it means to have friends. To be family, even if it’s not by blood. You’re my family.”
Hallie gave one more wracking sob. “You’re my family, too.”
Wyn reached for her, wrapping her arms around Hallie’s shaking body. They held each other tight until the crying subsided, purging the air between them of the hurt that had been crumbling their relationship for the past two years.
The rain lessened as Hallie pulled back, sniffling. She didn’t let go though, couldn’t let go when she’d almost lost everyone she’d had left, the family she’d made for herself then neglected for too long.
She looked down at the mouse. It was time to say goodbye to Kat. For real.
It really was over now.
She looked up, wishing she could see the stars. As if the stars held the soul of her—their—lost friend.
Because Hallie wasn’t the only one who had lost someone. And she never should have kept that pain for herself.
Wyn had been hurting, too.
But maybe they could finally move past it. Heal. Start over.
She knelt in the mud and began digging with her hand.
“What are you doing?” Wyn said.
Hallie just shook her head and dug until she had a hole several inches deep and the size of her hand. She gently placed the mouse inside, then covered the makeshift grave with dirt.
She glanced around the forest floor, looking for that telltale blue shimmer.
Ah, there.
She stood and stepped several feet off the trail, digging up one of the blue bell flowers and replanting it on top of the mouse.
She leaned closer to the flower, not caring if the magic didn’t work for humans. It was enough for her to believe.
“Goodbye, Kat,” she whispered.
