Epilogue
My fingers were drumming a staccato beat on the table when Mitchell finally walked into the coffee shop. I’d only been waiting for five minutes, but I kept mistaking every blonde man for him, afraid I’d forgotten what he looked like. I hadn’t seen him since we left Black Water.
He gave me a long hug, and we exchanged warm greetings. It felt surreal to see him in Brooklyn, still sporting the same haircut and wide smile I remembered.
It had been nearly six months since I left Duluth, and I had only recently told him the truth and asked for his help. Instead of answering, he changed the subject and shared some surprising news: his sister was moving to the city too.
We settled in, and I clutched my iced latte, afraid the glass might start rattling in my nervous hands.
He glanced around the cozy coffee shop in Cobble Hill, taking in the mismatched chairs, the plants, and the worn-out bookshelves.
I could tell from the look on his face that he was a Starbucks guy.
"How’s June?" I asked.
"Fine. Excited," he replied. "Dropped her off at her place. She’s unpacking still. Told her I needed some fresh air and to stretch my legs."
August was sweltering and oppressive, so his excuse for preferring the scorching streets to the comfort of an air-conditioned apartment felt flimsy, but if his sister didn’t object, it wasn’t my place to judge. We had agreed to meet without her.
"I’m still shocked she’s actually doing this. And you’re helping her!"
"Yeah, well," Mitch rubbed the back of his neck, "time for her to fly solo, make her own mistakes."
In the Winter, Mitch had been skeptical about June moving, and neither of us thought she was serious.
But shortly after I left Minnesota, she applied to an RN training program and got accepted.
Her fall semester was about to start. She hadn’t said anything to either of us until she received the official news, and though Mitch had his reservations—we’d talked about it a few times—he was proud of her. I was, too.
"Anyway, I’m glad to see you. And thrilled about June’s move. Maybe you’ll be around more, too?" I said, trying to keep my nerves from showing.
"Nah, East Coast ain’t my style. Too much chaos. Besides, I gotta get back home by Monday."
"When’s your training over? Can you officially call yourself a firefighter now?" I asked, shifting the subject.
"Already done. Been working for a month now. Just here for the weekend," he said, looking down with a modest smile.
"Congrats! Too bad you have to leave so soon. But if June needs anything, I’ll be around."
"Thanks for looking out for her," he said.
"Sure thing. Alcohol, weed, and sex dungeon passes. Whatever she needs!" I teased.
Mitchell gave a wry laugh, shaking his head in mock disapproval. Then his face turned serious.
"So, you hear from—" he started to ask.
I cut him off. "No."
"That’s good, I suppose." Mitchell rubbed the back of his neck again.
The coffee shop was bustling with people coming and going, with a line forming at the counter.
The smell of fresh pastries almost seduced me, even in this heat.
We were lucky to have snagged a table by the window.
Here, amidst the chaos of the big city, I felt safer than anywhere else.
And for the first time since we’d left Black Water, I could finally talk about it.
"Is that why you called me back in Winter? To tell me?"
We hadn’t spoken about Nick since. I’d briefly told Mitch what happened, and he’d acknowledged it without surprise. I gave him everything I knew, including that I’d stolen the grimoire.
Mitch gave a curt tilt of his head, his eyes avoiding mine.
"How did you find out?" I asked.
A heavy pause hung in the air before he spoke. "Remember that private property sign? It kept bugging me, so I did some digging. Turns out it belonged to... well, you know who. Rest was easy to piece together. Figured he knew all along and was after the book himself. So I thought I’d let you know."
Mitch must have gone down the same path I had, only he’d connected the dots himself.
"Why didn’t you?"
His shoulders rose in a shrug. "You seemed happy, safe. Didn’t want to go ruining it for you."
We fell silent for a moment. I kept looking into my coffee, unsure how to feel about it. Always the one to tell others what to do, Mitch hadn’t wanted to ruin my happiness, even if it meant leaving me in the dark.
While I tried to decide whether it was noble or deceitful, he continued.
"Sorry it didn’t work out, but I’m glad you know the truth now.
Didn’t want to be the one to hurt you, that’s all.
If it’s any consolation, I think he really did care about you, all that crazy stuff aside.
Maybe you were the one thing that kept him grounded, you know? "
A weight lifted off my shoulders. Hearing that from someone else felt strangely reassuring.
I didn’t know what Nick had been up to or what choices he’d been making, and I wasn’t sure I could have changed any of them.
He may have tried to be the best version of himself for me.
But in the end, I had to face the truth: Nick was a manipulator and a liar.
There was no reason for me to keep sacrificing my life, holding my love like a burning candle for him, hoping he wouldn’t go off the rails.
"You’ve got nothing to apologize for. And thank you," I said.
"For what?" Mitchell looked genuinely surprised.
I looked at him and saw a different person from the one I’d met last fall. This new Mitchell had learned to let go, even when it hurt, and to prioritize others’ feelings over his own sense of righteousness.
"For being a good friend. Speaking of which..." I opened my tote and pulled out a large edition of a popular fantasy book, a little pun I couldn’t resist.
Mitchell’s eyes widened in surprise.
"Is this...?" he started to ask.
"Uh-huh," I said, smiling. "How do you like the makeover I gave it?"
Mitchell raised an eyebrow. "Disturbing. I’ll take care of it. It’ll be—"
"I don’t want to know," I interrupted, shaking my head. "Just make sure it’s somewhere safe, where no one will find it."
"Why didn’t you burn it like you wanted?"
"I thought about it," I confessed, "but I was scared it’d do more harm than good. After all, we really don’t know what this is. I left Nick because he lied and put us in danger over it. But I’m not a crazy book burner."
Mitchell slid the grimoire into his backpack, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Even though I’d spared the book, having it with me again felt heavy with malevolent energy, especially after unknowingly holding onto it for so long. People had died over it.
Mitch suddenly leaned in, "I got a buddy to dig into Robert’s finances, his sawmill and all," he said, his voice low and cautious.
I stilled. "What did you find?"
"They wired large chunks of cash to him a few times. Couple times from real people. He wouldn’t name them, and I didn’t push it, didn’t want to put my buddy in a tight spot. But a few times, bigger sums came from offshore companies that got dissolved right after."
"Did your friend find out who was behind those?"
Mitch shook his head. "Nah. And he told me to back off, not to dig any deeper. Said if we start sniffing around them, they might start sniffing around us. So we just let it go. It just... ain’t right. Amanda’s life—and others’—were thrown away so some rich folks could get richer."
"So the people behind it were… powerful?" I asked, watching him closely. He had to know more than he was saying.
He gave a slow nod.
"How powerful?"
His voice dropped.
"Very."
Goosebumps rose on my arms despite the heat. The coven actually had some serious clients. Getting confirmation of that was too spooky for my liking.
Mitch gave me a serious look. "Let’s keep June out of this. She’s been through enough."
"Sure."
He glanced around the coffee shop, where people were typing away on their laptops or chatting in small groups. Just as Nick had once said, lots of faces, but no one really cares about you. To me, that anonymity was comforting. I was a drop of water in the vast ocean.
"It’s tough, letting her go. And so far away," Mitch admitted suddenly.
"She’ll still be your little sister. And trust me, she’ll feel closer to you now than ever before."
Mitch looked away for a moment, clearly struggling to contain his emotions.
He took a deep breath before continuing.
"You know, I’ve always known I got my temper from my dad.
Always figured there’d come a day when I’d turn out just like him.
That’s why I had to get out of the military.
Got into a scrap. I was scared to death back in Black Water that I’d mess everything up, that she’d get hurt on account of me. "
I reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "You are not your father, Mitch. And you didn’t ruin anything. You saved us all."
Mitch’s gaze faltered. "I don’t know about that."
I squeezed his arm gently. "I’ve lived with you for several weeks, Mitch. You’re a good person. An amazing big brother and friend. And I would never be scared of you, because I know you. You were always there when we needed you."
Mitch nodded again, his eyes still cast downward. He squeezed his mug of untouched coffee. "Thanks," he said, "You’re a good kid, Foster."
I smiled inwardly at him calling me kid, even though he was only a couple of years older than me, and hoped he knew I meant every word I’d said.
"You like it here?" Mitchell asked.
I beamed in agreement. "I do."
Here, I was in my element. Finishing my degree, working, and living in the city I had grown to adore made me feel in control of my life. The ridiculous rent was a relatively small price to pay for the sense of self I had found.
The Lucas ordeal was finally behind me, and although memories of Nick still lingered, they no longer felt like an open wound. I was moving on, healing like the scar on my back.
Nick had been right about one thing: we needed to move toward a purpose, not just run away from things. Sometimes, that meant making hard choices.
And so far, I’ve been happy with the ones I’ve made.