3. Sapphire

Sapphire

“Sapphire,” Matt says after a few minutes of watching meteors together. “Look at me.”

I do. And, as I do, I see a flash of the hopeful high school football star who chose me—a freshman—to charm and win over in only the course of a few weeks.

It’s rare that I see this side of him anymore. Working long hours at the shop has worn him down over the years.

“I know things have been rough.” He shifts, fidgeting, and removes his gloves. “I know you’re unsure about where we’re headed.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, even though I’m not sure what I’m apologizing for. “It’s not you. It’s just…” I trail off, the words tangling in my throat.

Before I can decide what to say, he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small, velvet box .

No. No, no, no.

This can’t be happening.

Please tell me this isn’t happening.

“I want to give you the security you need—something solid.” His voice breaks through the fog in my mind. “You don’t have to be unsure anymore. We can make this official. You and me. Forever.”

I’m frozen, watching as he opens the box, revealing a simple, sparkling ring that probably cost him over three months’ pay.

“Will you marry me?” he asks, the hope in his eyes burning fiercer than ever.

Ice-cold dread rushes through me as he removes the ring and reaches for my hand, ready to put it on my finger.

“No.”

I yank my hand back, and the wind picks up, as if it’s trying to blow that ring right out of his fingers.

“What?” he asks, as if he didn’t hear me right. Like maybe I’ll take it back.

“No.” Panic claws at my insides, scrambling my thoughts. “I don’t want this. I’m not ready for this. Any of it.”

The hurt in his eyes turns into something darker. A deep sort of pain that makes my chest tighten even more.

“We’ve been together for over four years,” he says, not moving the ring away. “You’re telling me that after all this time, you don’t want this? You don’t want us?”

“I’m saying that the reason I don’t want to move in with you isn’t because I wanted you to propose to me first.” I stand up, as if that’ll clarify that there’s no way he’s getting that ring near my finger.

He should know me better than to think this was what I wanted. Especially since there’s been no moment in our relationship when either of us has mentioned marriage.

“Andrew and Winnie have been engaged for three months,” he says as he stands, as if she hasn’t been showing off her ring every moment she can. “Andrew’s the same age as me. He knows what he wants, and he’s doing it. Why shouldn’t we do the same? Why are we putting this off?”

“Because I don’t want to be stuck in Presque Isle for the rest of my life!” I shout, and the wind surges, rattling the branches overhead and stirring the snow at our feet.

Matt goes still.

Then, his expression twists from confusion to anger, his eyes narrowing as he clenches his fists at his sides.

“You think I want to be stuck here?” His voice is sharp, louder than it’s been all night, and he motions around the dark clearing. “That this is the life I dreamed of?”

I say nothing .

After all, I know how crushed he was when he didn’t get the football scholarship he wanted. It was his only chance at paying his way through college, and he lost it to the quarterback in the next town over.

I just hit him where it hurts, and I feel terrible about it.

“I’m trying to build a life with you.” He steps closer, as if he can convince me to change my mind by just talking to me for long enough. “But I’m offering you everything I have, and it’s still not enough. It’s never enough anymore. What the hell do you want from me?”

The crushed way he’s looking at me makes my heart break.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I just know it’s not this.”

He stands there, his face flushed with frustration, looking like he might say something angry. Something final.

Instead, he shakes his head and shoves the ring and its box back into his pocket.

“Fine,” he snaps. “Good luck bartending your way to some great escape. Because we both know that while you’re clearly too proud to admit it, you’re as stuck in this town as I am.”

With that, he stomps through the clearing, heading toward the trail that leads back to the parking lot.

Guilt and regret settle in my chest as he goes .

I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. It wasn’t fair.

But if I run after him, what am I going to say? Because I’m not going to take my decision back. And I know Matt well enough to know that he needs space.

A lot of it.

And, from the looks of it, that space is going to be permanent.

I should be devastated.

Instead, it’s like the last bit of weight I’ve been holding onto through all our breakups this year has been lifted off my shoulders.

I sink down onto the blanket again, wrapping my arms around my knees, wishing Mallory had left some whiskey behind. I’m not the type of person to drink by myself, but I’ve also never been the type of person who’s rejected her boyfriend’s marriage proposal and then been left alone in a dark clearing in the middle of the mountains.

But I’m not getting back together with Matt. We’re done. Broken up. For good now.

And I’m not going to drive back with him in what would be, without a doubt, the most awkward car ride in existence.

So, I pull out my phone, remove my gloves, and text Zoey.

You knew, I write, and then I add, You knew he was going to propose, and you left me in the woods with him .

I press send.

It doesn’t deliver.

I stare at the screen, willing the message to go through. But there’s nothing. Not even a single bar of service.

And as much as I’m dreading that car ride with Matt back into town, I’m also not stupid enough to stay here and freeze to death.

So, I get up and start down the trail, letting my phone’s flashlight guide my way.

The heartbreak that should accompany a breakup like this doesn’t appear. Not even when I think back on all our memories together. It’s like the hole in my heart has been there for months, and I’ve been piling the dirt back into it this entire time without ever realizing it.

His proposal was the final press of the shovel to pack the dirt down for good, sealing it over like a grave I never wanted to dig.

And, as I continue to walk, everything feels wrong. Not just in my heart, but in my surroundings. The trees look the same in every direction. There’s no clear path back to the parking lot. And every time I check my phone, there’s still no service.

My breath quickens, and I ground myself, trying to calm the panic rising in my chest.

Then, I hear it. A bubbling sound, like water flowing over rocks .

A stream.

Relief washes over me. If I follow the water, it should lead me out of here. Streams always lead somewhere, right? At least, somewhere that’s not a total circle?

Feeling more energized, I walk toward the sound of the water, picking up my pace.

Eventually, silver flashes in the distance.

A… tree? And in front of it, the stream.

I did it. That water will lead me home. Well, maybe not home, but at least out of the forest.

Hopefully. But given that it’s the only solution I have right now, I keep going.

As I approach, a woman steps out from behind the tree, bathed in a soft, ethereal glow. Her silver hair glints like the stars themselves, and her face is pale, almost translucent, with eyes that shimmer like galaxies.

“Hello?” I call out, relief flooding through me at the sight of another person. “Do you live out here? Can you help me find my way back?”

The woman says nothing. And, as I get closer, I realize that something about her feels…off. Unnatural. Like she’s there, but not entirely real.

I’m also not entirely sure it matters, given that she’s the only person who might be able to help me get out of these woods before I freeze to death.

I take a cautious step closer and hold up my hands, not wanting to scare her away. “I don’t have cell service,” I tell her. “But if you have a house nearby?—”

She moves, her feet silent against the snow, as if the night is moving with her.

I should back away. I should run. But I’m frozen, caught in the strange calm of her gaze, unable to move.

Her hand rises slowly, and before I can say anything, she touches me—a light brush of her fingertips against my forehead.

Pain shoots through my body.

It’s like fire and ice at the same time, burning and freezing me from the inside out. My vision blurs, and I fall to my knees, the world spinning around me as I fight with everything I have to stop myself from collapsing into the snow.

The glow around the woman intensifies, growing brighter, until it’s almost blinding. Spots dance before my eyes as the light creeps under my skin and becomes a part of me—consuming every inch of my being, all the way down to the marrow in my bones.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, the light goes out.

I collapse forward, catching myself on my hands as I gasp for air, my entire body trembling.

When I finally gather the strength to look up, the woman is gone.

Was she real? Or was I hallucinating from the cold ?

Can people hallucinate from the cold?

I don’t know. But one thing is clear—I have to get out of here. I will not pass out in the forest and freeze in the snow. Rejecting Matt’s proposal will not be my death sentence.

Pain rushes through me again. Searing hot pain that starts from my forehead and rages through the rest of my body.

I need to cool down.

I need water.

With shaky hands, I crawl toward the stream, every muscle screaming in protest. All I can focus on is the burning—this unbearable fire surging through my veins, eating me alive. I’ve never felt anything this agonizing in my life. Not even during the sledding accident with Zoey when I was ten, when I snapped my ankle and passed out.

She dragged me all the way home on that sled. And, much to my embarrassment, my ankle ended up being totally fine.

I finally reach the water, and as I rip off my gloves, I catch sight of my bracelet. The string of sapphires on a silver chain that my aunt told me was a gift from my mother, wherever she is. It’s the only thing of hers I have, and I can’t help feeling like there’s a part of her in the bracelet. Like somehow, she’s watching out for me from the stones .

But my bracelet isn’t going to save me. I need water. Now.

I scoop up a handful of icy water from an area of the stream that’s wider and clearer than the rest of it and bring it to my lips. The first sip burns, but the fire raging inside me fades just enough to keep me from collapsing.

Then, the world tilts.

There’s no time to scream—no time to catch myself—before I’m falling. Hard.

A sharp branch slices across my cheek as I tumble down, rolling over roots and jagged rocks. The world is a blur of trees, dirt, and silver leaves swirling around me like paint mixing together, each slam of my body into the earth driving the air from my lungs.

Pain explodes through my head as I crash into something—a rock, maybe—and land in some bushes at the base of a tree.

The last things I see are shimmering silver leaves before black haze creeps in at the edges of my vision, and everything goes dark.