40
Demi
Blue won’t answer my phone calls or texts, and I really need my sister right now.
It’s been a few days since our failed lunch date at Juniper’s.
Every day has gotten worse. I can’t taste anything; I can’t eat.
Tristan tells me that my skin is getting colder, and my hands are passing through him more and more often.
I’m fading away, and if Kitty and Mickey can’t find a solution soon, I’ll be gone before I can tell my sister goodbye.
The aunts have been calling every day, often multiple times, to reassure me that they’re doing everything they can.
They’ve been in contact with just about every witch they know.
Right now, Kitty and Mickey are in New York, meeting with a coven that they say might have access to spell books and resources to help.
So far, all they’ve found are a few reversal options, and they didn’t seem confident these spells would even work. To be honest, I don’t think I’d consent to a spell that sent Tristan onward.
Even if I survive what’s happening to me, I don’t think I’d survive losing Tristan. I’m in too deep with him now. It was my choice to bring him back in the first place. These are my consequences to bear, not his .
I’m on the couch in the upstairs living room with Mittens curled up on one side of me, and Tristan on the other.
He has one arm around me while the other holds the spell book.
He hasn’t stopped combing through it since the day we realized something was wrong.
He’s determined to find a spell, a loophole, anything to fix this mess.
I try calling Blue again. It rings a few times, then goes to voicemail, and I let out a sigh.
Tristan sets the spell book down, stands, and holds his hand out to me.
“Let’s go,” he says.
“Go where?”
“We need to get out of this house. Sunset’s in an hour, let’s go catch it on the beach.”
I smirk. “You’re bringing me to take in the sea air like a sickly Victorian child.”
“That’s part of it.”
“Blue lives on the beach.”
“That’s also part of it.”
I take his hand and stand, then wrap my arms around his waist. “You’re a good one, Tristan Beaumont.”
He kisses the top of my head in response.
As I step out the front door, autumn rolls out its welcome mat for me.
We’re two days away from Halloween, and Ivy Hollow is showing off in a big, beautiful way.
There’s woodsmoke and the brittle scent of dried leaves in the air.
The trees are all burning bright orange and red.
The sun is an amber glow, too far to ward off most of the fall chill.
I wrap my sweater tighter around myself and take a deep breath of the fresh air .
“I’ll drive,” Tristan says, plucking the keys out of my hand.
“Do you even remember how to drive?” I rest my hands on my hips and raise an eyebrow as he opens the passenger door for me.
“Of course I do.”
“Your license is definitely expired.”
“Fair. But your hands sometimes go ghosty, and I’m not risking that in the car.”
“You could touch inanimate objects just fine when you were a ghost. You just couldn’t touch people.”
He crosses to the driver's side, then looks at me over the top of the station wagon. “Do you not trust me with your car?”
I give it a little pat. “She’s an antique.”
Tristan grins. “Well, so am I.” He opens the door and slides behind the wheel.
He takes the winding back roads from the manor to the coast slow and steady, and I sit in the passenger seat with one hand out the window, riding the wind as Van Morrison tenderly croons “Into The Mystic” through the speakers.
The golden sun brings out the strands of auburn in Tristan’s hair and the dusting of it in his beard.
He looks tired—I know he’s been sick with worry for me—but in this moment at least, he also looks content.
I like the way his big hands look on the steering wheel.
I also kind of like that he’s totally driving under the speed limit.
“You drive like a grandpa,” I say.
He rolls his eyes and relaxes in his seat a little more, taking one hand off the wheel and resting it on my thigh as if to prove to me that he’s not ?a grandpa .
“There’s precious cargo in this station wagon; I’m taking it easy.”
“You mean my priceless cassette tape collection?”
Tristan squeezes my thigh. “I mean you , Demi.”
“I know,” I say with a laugh, covering his hand with mine.
“Do you have any idea how much I love you?”
“About as much as I love you.”
“More.”
“I don’t know if that’s possible.”
He looks over at me, and I see in his eyes how serious he is, how sincere. “It is,” he says. “I promise it is.”
I don’t have the words to meet his complete earnestness, so instead, I bring his hand to my lips and kiss his knuckles, then hold his palm to my chest. Maybe he can feel the way my heart beats just for him, how there is permanent space for him in there, how it belongs to him.
The lighthouse and Blue’s cottage on the hill come into view, and beyond that, the sea. This close to the water, my spirit already feels more at ease.
“Do you want to see if your sister is home?” Tristan asks carefully.
I nod. “We can park in her driveway and walk down to the beach from there.”
As we pull in, I notice that Blue’s Jeep isn’t here, but Noah’s truck is. He’s unloading firewood into an alcove along the side of her house. How sweet.
“Is there anything going on between Noah and Blue?” Tristan asks, putting the station wagon in park.
I shrug. “It’s complicated. Personally, I think Noah’s always been in love with Blue. But they’ve been best friends since they were in kindergarten, and nothing has ever happened between them as far as I know.”
We get out of the car, and Noah greets us with a wave as he hefts more wood onto Blue’s pile.
“Moonlighting as a lumberjack?” I ask.
“Nah, I just had some extra firewood I thought I’d drop off.”
I can almost guarantee he didn’t just have extra . I’d bet money he chopped extra just for Blue.
Noah holds his hand out for Tristan. “Hey, man. I’m Noah.”
“Tristan,” he says with a firm shake.
Noah smiles. “Blue’s not a big fan of you.”
“Noah. Rude,” I scold.
“Sorry,” the fisherman says with a shrug. “For what it’s worth, Blue’s not a big fan of anyone.”
“Is she home?” I ask.
“No. She’s been out of town for a few days.”
“Out of town? Where?”
Noah has the grace to look sheepish as he scratches the back of his neck. “I’m not supposed to tell you.”
I hate that I don’t know where my sister is, or even that she’s left town. She usually tells me everything. I pull out my phone to check her location, but the app shows it as “location unavailable.”
“Did she go to New York with Kitty and Mickey?” I ask.
“No. But that’s all I can tell you,” Noah says.
I huff. “Can you at least tell me how she’s doing?”
“She’s mad as hell,” Noah chuckles, his brown eyes glittering behind his wire-rim glasses .
“When will she be back?”
Noah looks at me for a long moment, then sighs, taking pity on me. “She said she’ll be home by Halloween.”
Halloween might be too late.
“Thanks, Noah,” I say, deflated, then take Tristan’s hand and lead him around the cottage to the stairs that lead down to the beach.
The shoreline here is mostly covered in small, smooth rocks rather than sand.
Tristan and I find a spot on the beach that’s relatively dry and smooth and sit down next to each other.
For an autumn day, the ocean is relatively calm.
Soft waves lap at the stony shore in a gentle tempo.
The sea air feels good on my skin, in my lungs.
“I almost forgot how beautiful this place is,” Tristan says. We settle in, and he pulls me in front of him. I sit between his legs with my back to his chest, and he wraps me in his arms, in his warmth. I can feel the gentle drum of his heartbeat on my spine.
Above us, the sky is just starting to turn pink.
“When’s the last time you saw the sun set over the ocean?” I ask.
“A long time. Before I died.”
“Did you miss it?”
“Very much so.”
If things go badly for me, I know I’ll miss this. I’ll miss so many things.
Tristan brushes my hair behind my ear so he can press his lips to my cheek. “What are you thinking about?” he asks softly.
I could play it off, tell him something to keep the mood light, but I’m not sure I have it in me right now. When it comes down to it, I think Tristan has earned the right to see the darker parts of me, the vulnerable bits. He’s given me so much; I can at least give him this.
“I’m scared of what happens next,” I say.
“Me, too.” Tristan holds me a little tighter.
“I wouldn’t give you up for the world. But I just wish the circumstances were different.”
“We’ll find a way out of this.”
“But what if we don’t?” I ask.
Lavender streaks across the sky, the pink turns crimson, and the clouds become amber puffs of light. All the colors are reflected in the gently rolling water below. It’s all so beautiful.
“What was it you said to me before we did the spell?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I talk a lot.”
He laughs. “You said, ‘One thing about me is that when I want something, I usually get it’.”
“I did say that.”
“That’s how I know we’ll find a way. You’re the most determined person I’ve ever met. Demi St. James always gets what she wants.”
“But what if—”
“No. There’s no what-if. Because my world begins and ends with you. We have no other option but to make it through this,” Tristan says.
As the sun sets over the ocean, as I bask in the totality of his love, warm in his arms, I try my hardest to believe him.