7. Sapphire

Sapphire

Three firm knocks on the door jolt me awake.

It opens before I can say to come in.

Aunt Martha gives me a hard stare, her arms crossed, her brow raised like she’s been waiting for me to get up for hours.

“Late start,” she scolds. “Didn’t wake you at a respectable hour because of New Year’s Eve. The only holiday where it’s acceptable to stay out unreasonably late.”

Reasonable.

That’s the quality of hers she’s most proud of, since it’s what she says my mother lacks. She wears it with everything she owns and does, with her modest clothing, her sensible bun, and even her weekly grocery lists. No treats—just essentials .

“I definitely needed the sleep,” I say, glancing out my window.

The sun is high in the sky.

I check my phone, shocked at the time.

Noon.

Aunt Martha let me sleep until noon.

It’s crazier than falling into another realm, meeting a gorgeous fae man who claims I have powers, who then gives me a binding magical kiss and disappears into the woods on his giant leopard.

But most amazing is that after all of that, I feel surprisingly refreshed.

I’d think it was all a dream, if it didn’t all feel so real.

“Lunch will be ready in five minutes,” she says, yanking me out of my thoughts. “Steak and green beans.”

With that, she gives my messy room a disapproving once-over and leaves without closing the door.

One of the major rules of this house is that when we’re both home, we eat together. Which means I have five minutes to freshen up and get to the kitchen table.

In the bathroom, I run a hand over my face and glance in the mirror, half-expecting to see some visible sign of the magic—of him. But there’s nothing. Just the same old me.

At least, the same me on the outside.

On the inside, I’ll never be the same .

Aunt Martha glances at me as I enter the kitchen, her lips pressed into the thin line I’ve come to associate with her version of affection. She never says it, but I know she cares. In her own strict, no-nonsense way.

“Steak’s almost done,” she says, moving with precision around the stove.

I set up the table while she finishes up, my stomach growling when she places my plate in front of me.

Steak, barely seared, with green beans on the side.

It’s perfect.

I dig in as if I haven’t eaten for days, and that’s when I see it. Or, more appropriately, I see the absence of it.

My bracelet.

It’s not on my wrist.

My stomach drops, my food suddenly unappetizing.

How could I have lost my bracelet? I’ve worn it since it was able to fit on my wrist, and in all that time, it’s never fallen off.

The last time I saw it was… when I drank the water that took me into the fae realm.

Maybe Riven stole it? He was transfixed with it from the moment he saw it. And who knows how long he was hovering over my half-dead body before the ghostly, in-limbo version of myself became consciously aware and was snapped back to life?

Then there was the kiss. I was so spellbound during it that if he was a practiced thief, he could have stolen it without me realizing it.

And let’s not forget my tumble in the bushes. My clothes got pretty snagged up during the fall.

As for now, I can’t let Aunt Martha see it’s missing. She’ll be furious.

So, I pull the sleeve of my sweatshirt as far down as possible, praying she won’t notice, and eat as quickly as I can.

She doesn’t force conversation. Despite all the qualities of hers that I’m not the biggest fan of, that’s one I’ve always appreciated. And I appreciate it more than ever right now, since I’m not in the mood to rehash my breakup with Matt.

After everything that happened last night, my relationship with Matt is the last thing on my mind. Especially since deep in my heart, I know our relationship ended months ago.

It just took refusing his proposal to make it official.

“I’m going to Zoey’s,” I say after we finish eating and get everything cleaned up.

“All right.” She takes a moment to study me—I can tell she knows something’s up. But thankfully, she doesn’t push. “Have a good time.”

“I will.”

Grabbing my phone, I text Zoey that I’m coming over, then hop in my car and head out. Luckily, Zoey drove us to the bar last night, so I didn’t have to worry about getting my car home on top of everything else.

Zoey’s house is on the edge of town, and it’s easily the biggest in Presque Isle. Big enough that she and her brothers have their own rooms, along with their own bathrooms.

When I was younger, I used to wish I lived there. But over the years, I’ve come to appreciate the coziness of the home I grew up in, and the calmness of living with Aunt Martha.

Zoey opens the door, her dark hair tied up in a messy bun on the top of her head, before I can text her to let her know I’m here.

Her gaze drops to my left hand.

More specifically, to the finger that would have a ring on it if I said yes to Matt’s proposal.

“You knew what he was going to do,” I realize. “And you said nothing.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, and she genuinely looks it. “I just… it was Matt’s question to ask. You needed to hear it from him—not from me.”

Even though I hate it, her point is valid.

“He asked me if he should do it,” she continues, talking faster now, getting everything out before I can jump in. “Obviously, I didn’t want to speak for you. I might be your best friend, but I’m not a mind reader. ”

“Come on.” I roll my eyes, and we head up the steps to her room. “You know I wouldn’t say yes.”

“I told him he needed to do what he felt was right.” She shrugs, guilt splattered all over her face. “Maybe this is for the best? You guys have broken up and gotten back together so many times these past few months that I can’t keep up. It’s clearly not working between you anymore.”

“I know.” I plop down onto her desk chair—the one I always sit on when we chat in her room—and she closes the door, making herself comfortable on the edge of her bed. “It was a disaster.”

“He got angry when you said no,” she guesses.

“He left me in the woods. And then…”

“And then what?” She sits forward and looks me over in concern.

“It’s going to sound crazy,” I say, not knowing how else to begin.

She smiles wickedly. “I love crazy.”

“I can promise you’ve never heard anything this crazy.”

“Try me,” she challenges.

“Okay,” I say, even though I’m completely unsure about how this is going to go. “But please just let me tell you everything, from start to finish? After I’m done, you can ask all the questions you want. ”

“Sure,” she says, even though I know that with Zoey, quietly listening is easier said than done. “Go ahead.”

So, I do, starting from the disastrous proposal and continuing from there.

There are a few times when Zoey wants to interrupt. But she controls herself and lets me talk, although I can tell by the way she’s looking at me that she either thinks I’ve lost it or am making all of this up.

“And… that’s all of it,” I tell her when I’m done.

She says nothing. Which is more unnerving than any reaction I could have anticipated.

Zoey is the most talkative person I know, but apparently, I’ve shocked her speechless.

“You really believe all of this,” she finally says.

My stomach drops. Because it sounds like she doesn’t believe it. Not a word of it.

“I do,” I reply, ready to fight her on this until she knows it’s true. “Because it’s what happened.”

She presses her lips together, deep in thought.

“Do you think that maybe the woman pushed you down, and you hit your head, and that it knocked you out?” she finally asks, speaking softly, as if she’s afraid that one wrong word is going to make me break.

“No. I drank that water. And then I ended up in that other place…” I trail off, unable to bring myself to say other realm again . It sounds so ridiculous. “Where I saw him . The guy from the bar. ”

Riven.

Just the thought of him makes my lips tingle from the memory of that kiss.

“Right. You saw him when you were a ghost hovering on top of a silver-leafed tree.” She’s clearly having a difficult time processing this, which I suppose is understandable. “With his pet snow leopard. Which caused you to come back to life and use water magic to attack them.”

“Umm… yes?”

“Then show me,” she challenges. “Use you water magic, so I can see it for myself.”

“I’m not sure how much I can control it,” I say quickly. “When I was there, I wasn’t trying to do anything. It just happened.”

“Then make it happen again,” she says, as if it’s that simple. “Because right now, I’m thinking it sounds like you hit your head pretty hard. You might have a concussion. Which means it’s probably a good idea to see a doctor. It’s New Year’s Day, but the hospital should be open?—”

“No.” I hold my hands up, stopping her mid-sentence. “I’ll try to do it again. But I need some water to work with.”