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“Come home with me for Christmas.”

“All right.” Esther’s smile was slow and heartbreaking. No wonder she hid them. It was a punch to Ashley’s chest.

Ashley fisted her hand resting on the wall next to Esther’s head, using every ounce of willpower in her body to not pull Esther into her arms and kiss her senseless.

“This is a terrible plan,” said Ashley. Her cheeks were tired from smiling so much, but she couldn’t help herself.

“Quite terrible.” Esther laughed. A short, sweet puff of a laugh that felt like a treasure. “Don’t wait so long to text me next time.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Testing her boundaries, Ashley ran a light finger down Esther’s shoulder and along her arm, watching as Esther shivered in response. Their gaze met, and there was another question in Esther’s eyes. Some want that Ashley hadn’t yet addressed.

A light cough nearby had them jumping apart, Ashley with a hiss.

“Well, what do we have here?” August stood in Hannah’s bedroom doorway across the hall, tucking a sheet of paper into the inside pocket of his coat before closing the door behind him.

“What have you got there, witch?”

“I’m sure you know. You were watching me the whole time, after all.” He folded his arms in front of him and leaned against the doorway with a smile like some flirty school gossip. “What are you two up to?”

Ashley glared at him. “I will end you, witch.”

She knew she should be more concerned about whatever he took, but she was still riding this high called Esther and couldn’t manage to care too terribly much about some annoying witch. What was the worst that could happen from a single piece of paper?

“Not today, at least.” He grabbed Esther by the arm and guided her down the stairs and out the front door, Ashley following behind.

Ashley stood in the doorway and watched helplessly as Esther strode down the porch steps and into the sunshine.

Esther turned back and mouthed,Text me, before getting in the car and driving away. It wasn’t until they turned out of sight that Ashley noticed the red welts on her gloveless hand and stepped back inside.

“Ash.” Claribel stood in the shadow of the column to the front sitting room. She tossed something small to her, and Ashley caught it. “I thought you could use your own. To remember her by.”

A silver vial.

15

Ashley

Ashley strutted through August’s back door like she did every evening. Ah, the luxury of walking through a door without first asking permission. Was there any simpler joy?

“Honey, I’m home,” she sang while stepping, unimpeded, across the threshold.

“I’m going to take back your permission if you keep barging in like this,” August called from the other room. “What if I didn’t have pants on?”

“Why are you walking around without pants on?”

“Because this is my damn house, and I don’t have to wear pants if I don’t want to.”

Ashley stopped at the kitchen door. “Are you wearing pants?”

There was a moment of silence and shuffling. “I am now. Hope you’re happy.”

“I am.” She skipped into the other room, but he wasn’t there. He wasn’t anywhere on the first floor. She’d never been upstairsbefore. What a perfect excuse. She shot up the steps, looking in every door and ignoring the one he was in to finish snooping.

Satisfied, she returned to where August was sitting at a desk in rumpled pajama pants and a gray tee, his hair a mess. The room was an office. Or maybe a study. Was that what people with old houses called their room lined with bookshelves and a desk so immovable it must have grown there a century or two ago? Maybe it was called a library. The house was snobby enough to pull it off.

A book cart of textbooks lined up against the side of the desk, their subjects all over the place—interior design, philosophy, graphic design.

She peered over his shoulder at what appeared to be something for a world history class. “Is your major undecided too?”