Page 28 of The Oath We Give

When I’d turned eighteen, I no longer needed the black eyeliner and metal spikes. I could do whatever the fuck I wanted when I left for college, and it was that mentality that got me kidnapped and locked in a basement.

Playing nice to them now is courtesy for my sister.

“You and Emmet were cute. Even his eyeliner is kinda hot.”

I suck in a shocked breath. I haven’t heard his name in so long. How long has it been since I thought about him?

The track record of men I’ve ruined because of my cursed heart is short but enough to show a pattern. Emmet hurt the most, I think. We loved each other in every way sixteen-year-olds could.

Even though the official report was that his depression caused him to jump off the bridge, everyone always knew it was me. Even his parents, who wouldn’t let me go to his funeral, knew.

It wasn’t a coincidence that we’d broken up the day before. That I had taken it upon myself to end the relationship. It had been my fault.

My stepmother might call me a witch as a running joke in our household, but she’s right about one thing.

I am cursed.

Inside of me lives a spell that crushes the hearts of men. My bones are built from a hex, dark magic that drives boys mad. This curse I live with makes love a lethal weapon.

Falling for me is not the fear. It’s what happens when I fall forthem.

Every man I have ever loved has either disappeared, died, or lost their mind. Magic may not be something most believe. Curses may not be real to some, but things can only happen so many times before you realize that a common thread in these tragedies is always you.

“He used to bring you gummy worms when he’d pick me up for our dates. You liked him.”

Talking about Emmet, thinking of the person I was in high school, feels a lot like reminiscing about an old classmate. Someone I watched and heard things about but never really knew.

It’s impossible to quantify the distance between who I was and whatever it is am I now.

The distance between who I was and whatever I am now? Light years.

“Well, of course I did. I was a kid, and he brought candy. I still don’t have anyone else to compare him to.” Even though I’m not there, I can see her tossing her arms in the air. “You refuse to date, which means I can’t grill anyone like a good little sister should.”

I hope she isn’t holding her breath. Another person won’t be walking romantically into my life ever again. I don’t mean that in the typical way where people say it as a joke or a shield ’cause they’ve never been given the right opportunity.

I mean it in how even if my soul mate descended from the clouds and fate wrote in big block letters in a mirror that this person was the one? I’d still turn around and walk away like I didn’t even see them.

“I like being alone, Li. It doesn’t bother me.”

I finish the stools, sliding the cleaning stuff beneath a cabinet, and lean against one of the wooden desks holding an array of small clay sculptures.

“Yes, it does.”

My eyebrows shoot to my hairline. “Sorry?”

“No one enjoys being alone, especially you, Cora. I get it, you love showing the world this cold, remote version of you who snaps at people if they get close. I don’t blame you. But don’t lie and say you enjoy it. I know you.”

She’s younger than me but not dense. I can’t shield her from everything, and even though she doesn’t understand all of it, Lilac doesn’t need the details. She just knows her older sister isn’t the same one who disappeared that fall night.

“Should I Cash App or Venmo you for the therapy?”

“Let me come over tonight, and make me brown butter gnocchi. We’ll call it even.”

I let out a little laugh. “What time—”

“Oh my god,” she says suddenly.

The tone of our conversation shifts from light and easy to something else. My hand reaches up to grab the phone, dropping what I’m doing so I can start looking around for my keys, ready to drive to our parents’ house immediately.