Page 95 of The Last Lost Girl

Smee pulls me over the rail and hugs me so tightly my back pops. Hook stands beside us. He holds his side as he looks me over. His dark hair drips seawater down his body and onto the deck. I scrutinize him as intently as he does me and note he’s paler than normal. His pretty lips carry a hint of blue in their middles.

Wood cracks as the crew forces their way through the bar that held them below decks and they rush to see what’s going on.

“Are you hurt, Ava?” Hook asks.

Tears sting the backs of my eyes as Smee releases me. I stand in his sopping, too-large clothes, clutching the waistband of the shorts to keep them from falling off my body. “You’re asking if I’m hurt? You almost died!” I’m shaking, but it has nothing to do with fever now. The adrenaline that kept me from sinking in that water is wearing off.

I study him for a long moment, comparing his face to that of the boy I dreamt of last night. Because I know in my heart, it wasn’t just a dream.

He steps closer, worry creasing his brow. “Ava?”

I’ve never seen anyone else with eyes his shade of green.

“You’re a liar.”

His lips slowly peel apart. Then a mixture of fear and anger rolls over his face and locks his muscles. “And what exactly are you accusing me of lying about?”

“I remember you – from before.”

“Before…” His anger is a dark storm over land, razing trees with roots too shallow to hold them up against his fury. Ripping and hurling what he can. Surging against a once-peaceful coast as his eyes harden to emeralds. “Have you been lying to me all this time?” he accuses.

“I’m not a liar,” my voice cracks. “But you are! Lying isn’t just telling someone something that isn’t true. It’s purposely withholding what they have the right to know!”

His head ticks back. “Not a liar? Then how do you explain how you suddenly have your childhood memories back?”

The sun doesn’t reflect my soul like it should. My shadow is settled into the middle of my back, a mark that clings and shifts with every movement, curled and sleeping in the dark places between my bones.

“I didn’t have anything before he marked me,” I grit.

Smee steps between us, stretches an arm out, and pushes Hook away. “Emotions are running a little high after the ordeal we just experienced.” But Hudson doesn’t move. Smee leans in to quietly remind his friend, “She just saved your life, Hudson.”

“Then I guess we’re even!” he snarls.

The air between us crackles as we stare one another down. I don’t tell him that I only knew as much as the edges of last night’s dream could hold. Why should I tell him anything when he tells me nothing?

All I know is that when we were children, at least for a time, he and I were friends. He made me feel safe in the dark that first night when I thought the sun would never rise. Our lives and deaths intertwined the moment I shared my breakfast with him when I wasn’t supposed to.

“How long have you known that I’ve been here before?” I demand, tears now shivering in my eyes, blurring him. My fingers curl into fists to match his. “When did you write me down?”

The worst part of the ache in my heart is that Belle knew the reason I was imprisoned was because I talked to her. Because I told her about my life back home.

After we spoke, she flew into a rage and called Pan out on his lies.

She must have been the one who carried me back home, but… what happened when we got there? Did she try to locate my family, or did she create one with me because she was lonely without Pan?

The crew stands stock still in whatever place they took up when this battle began. All but Smee, who looks between us with a mixture of anger and sadness. I don’t think he knew any of my past. Hook probably kept many things from him, too.

Hudson’s hand darts out and clamps around my upper arm. He hauls me toward his quarters. The doors are still open but the moment we pass through them, he slams them shut and locks the door behind us. He stalks to his desk and grabs a thick book bound in dark leather, then tosses it to the floor at my feet. “You want to know everything? Fine.”

I snarl as I pick it up, then thumb through the pages looking for my name amid the scrawl.

“From the first page to the last,” he bites, “to save you time thumbing through.” He paces to the doors and back so sharply, the ship seems to rock with his frenzied steps.

My lashes flutter as I take in the size of this book.

I was in Neverland long enough for him to write so much?

“How could you keep this from me?” I ask, my words falling away as I crack the cover and comb over the words on the first page, the second, the third…

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