"Oh, good." She smiles. "I just tried your mom's recipe—you know the ones she always used to bake? And I want you to try one and tell me what you think."

I freeze, unable to do anything but blink. Forcing a patience I don't really have when I say, "I'm sure they're fine. Listen, Sabine, I—"

But she doesn't let me finish. She just cocks her head to the side and says, "Well, aren't you at least going to try one?"

And I know this is not just about seeing me eat, it's also about wanting approval—my approval. She's been questioning whether or not she's fit to look after me, wondering if she's in some way responsible for my behavioral problems, thinking that if she'd only handled things better, none of this would've happened. I mean, my brilliant, successful, high-performing aunt, who's never lost a single court case—wants approval from me.

"Just one," she insists. "It's not like I'm trying to poison you!" And when her eyes meet mine, I can't help but notice her seemingly random choice of words, wondering if it's some sort of message, pushing me to hurry, but knowing I have to get through this first. "I know they're probably not nearly as good as your mom's, because hers were the undisputed best, but it is her recipe—and for some reason I woke up early this morning with this overwhelming urge to make them. And so I thought—" Knowing she's capable of going into a full-on opening argument in her pursuit to convince me, I reach toward the stack of brownies. Going for the smallest square, figuring I'll just eat it and run. But when I see the unmistakable letter E carved right in its center—I know. It's my sign. The one I've been waiting for all along. Just when I'd given up hope, Riley pulled through.

Marking the smallest brownie on the plate with my initial in the exact same way that she used to do. And when I look for the largest one and see an R carved onto it, I definitely know it's from her. The secret message, the sign she promised, right before she left me for good. But still, not wanting to be some crazy delusional person who finds secret meaning in a plate of baked goods, I glance at Sabine and say, "Did you—" I point at my brownie, the one with my initial carved into its middle. "Did you put that there?"

She squints, first at me, and then at the brownie, then she shakes her head and says, "Listen, Ever, if you don't want to try it, then you certainly don't have to, I just thought—" But before she can finish, I've already plucked it off the plate and plopped it into my mouth, closing my eyes as I savor its chewy sweetness, immediately immersed in the feeling of home. That wonderful place I was lucky enough to revisit, no matter how short a time—finally realizing it's not relegated to just one single place, it's wherever you make it. Sabine looks at me, her face anxious, awaiting my approval. "I tried them once before, but for some reason they didn't turn out nearly as good as your mom's." She shrugs, gazing at me shyly, eagerly awaiting my verdict. "She used to joke that she used a secret ingredient, but now I wonder if that might've been true."

I swallow hard, wiping the crumbs from my lips, and smiling when I say, "There was a secret ingredient."

Seeing her expression fall, wondering if that means they're no good. "The secret ingredient was love," Itell her. "And you must've used plenty, because these are awesome."

"Really?" Her eyes light up.

"Really." I hug her to me, but only for a moment before I'm pulling away. "Today's Friday, right?"

She looks at me, her brows merged. "Yes, it's Friday. Why? Are you okay?"

But I just nod and flee out the door, knowing I've even less time than I thought.

Chapter Forty-Nine

I pull into Ava's drive, and park my car sloppily—back wheels on the cement, front wheels on the grass, moving toward the door so quickly I barely acknowledge the stairs. But just as I reach it, I take a step back—something feels weird, off, strange in a way I can't quite explain. Like it's too quiet, too still. Even though the house appears just as I left it—planters on either side of the door, welcome mat in place—it's static in a way that seems eerie. And as I raise my knuckles to knock, I've just barely tapped it when it opens before me. I head through the living room and into the kitchen, calling out for Ava and noticing how everything is just as I left it—teacup on the counter, cookies on a plate, everything in its usual place. But when I peek in the cupboard and see that the antidote and elixir are missing, I'm not sure what to think. Not knowing if it means that my plan worked and it wasn't needed after all, or if the opposite is true, and that something's gone wrong.

I race toward the indigo door at the end of the hall, eager to see if Damen's still there, but I'm blocked by Roman who stands right before it. His face widening into a grin as he says, "So nice to have you back, Ever. Though I told Ava you would be. You know what they say—you can't go home again!" I take in his deliberately tousled hair that perfectly frames the Ouroboros tattoo on his neck—knowing that despite my advances, despite my waking the school, he's still the one in charge around here.

"Where's Damen?" My eyes rake over his face, my gut twisting tight. "And what've you done with Ava?"

"Now, now." He smiles. "Don't you worry 'bout a thing. Damen's right where you left him. Though I must say I can't believe that you left him. I underestimated you. I had no idea. Though I can't help but wonder how Damen would feel if he knew. I bet he underestimated you too."