Chapter 35

Istood on the edge of the arena, leaning against the gate next to Addie while we watched Willa and her new horse, Dahlia, in the round pen. Willa spun a lead rope in her hand, coaxing the small bay mare in a large circle.

“She’s so happy,” Addie said quietly, resting her chin on her hands.

I sucked in a breath and nodded. It had been two weeks since we brought Dahlia to the same barn where I boarded Ghost, and Willa had been here almost every day—and each day, she had the same dazzling smile. “Yeah, she is.”

Addie licked her lips. “That makes one of us.”

I glanced at her. “Everything okay?”

“I’m just tired all the time, overwhelmed every second of every day,” she admitted, not taking her eyes off Willa, who had undeniably tilted her head to listen to us. “It makes me feel guilty to worry Holland so much.”

“Holland’s a worry-wart,” I countered.

“Still,” she sighed. “I’m the worst vampire in the world.”

“No,” I said, offering her a smile. “Wren is the worst vampire in the world. You can be a close second.”

Addie grinned, and across the arena, Willa laughed and gave me a thumbs-up. I sucked in a breath. “There is no book about vampirism—no right or wrong way to do this. No matter what happens, you have us, right?”

“Right,” Addie agreed.

“Not even death can part us,” Willa said, hooking Dahlia’s lead rope to her halter and walking over to stand with us. “That’s pretty badass, if you ask me.”

Addie didn’t seem entirely convinced but accepted Willa’s outstretched hand and smiled.

I brightened with an idea. “Come on, Addie, it’s your turn to ride.”

“What?” She blanched. “Absolutely not.”

“Yes!” Willa squeaked.

I hopped over the gate and walked over to pat Dahlia’s bare back. “Come on, Willa, and I will be here the whole time.”

Addie shook her head. “Definitely not.”

“Live a little,” Willa teased. “You’re going to live forever.”

Addie’s brow furrowed as she looked between Willa and I, letting the weight of Willa’s words sink in. Then, a smile spread across her face. I pumped my fist in victory, and Willa squeaked as Addie climbed the gate. Joy vibrated through me; I watched Willa coax Addie onto Dahlia’s back. Addie stepped into Willa’s outstretched hands as a mounting block and clumsily pulled herself onto the horse. Her eyes were wide in shock as she sat up. All the while, Dahlia stood patiently. Willa showed Addie how to hold onto Dahlia’s mane, then took the lead rope to walk the horse forward.

Addie squeaked in surprise, but by the time Willa looked back to check on her, there was a bright smile on our friend’s face. I sat on the gate and watched Willa walk Addie in small circles for a while, then she hopped onto Dahlia’s back behind Addie and guided the horse into a trot. All the while, Addie laughed and smiled.

I took a picture and sent it to Holland. She’s going to be fine.

His response was instant. Thank you.

Tucking my phone away, I stepped away to get my horse. I brushed him but didn’t bother with a saddle and returned to my friends. “Let’s go for a ride,” I said.

“Are you okay with that?” Willa asked Addie. “I’ll drive.”

Addie laughed. “Let’s go.”

I pulled myself onto Ghost’s bare back and led the way out of the arena, thinking that this moment with my friends felt more right than any others. These were my people.

Hours later, I laughed as I approached the apartment with Willa, who was imitating Addie’s girlish scream when Dahlia shook out her mane. Addie elbowed Willa in the arm, though her eyes were filled with as much amusement as the rest of ours.

I saw the letter on the ground before they did, lifting it and slipping it into my bag before unlocking the door. The three of us piled into the apartment in a cacophony of laughter.

“I need to shower!” I announced.

“So do the rest of us,” Willa stuck out her tongue.

“Well, you two can fight over the one in Willa’s room. I’m using mine,” I laughed, waving them off and skipping to my room. Willa called a few swear words after me, but I only laughed.

Once alone, I pulled the letter out of my bag and sat on the edge of my bed to read it. This one was shorter than all the others I’d received.

Sophie,

I have no way of knowing whether you’ve read my letters. If you read any of them, I hope it’s this one.

I owe you an apology. A real one. In person.

Please know that I want nothing else but to apologize. I don’t expect your forgiveness, but I hope you’ll allow me a moment to get this off my chest.

I’m only asking for a moment.

Eliza

The bottom had an address scrawled across it, along with a date and time—three days from now.