Page 42 of Never Landing

That was when I started throwing away the older clothes, and burned utensils, and...well, everything I knew Grandma’s house already had one of. No need for cheap wooden spoons when I knew there were ten waiting back at the house. No dish drying rack, no holey high school mathlete T-shirts.

Peter had left his childhood behind. It was time for me to do the same.

The rest of the useful things went into the truck. The trash went in the dumpster behind the building. Then we put togethera box of the stuff that was still useful, and walked it down to the local consignment shop as a donation, and we were done.

I picked a decent restaurant, set it as a destination on the phone, and took my boyfriend’s hand, to lead him to the first meal of our new life. Our adult life. Together.

26

Peter

We spent one night in Everett’s packed up apartment. I still didn’t completely understand how this was hishome—it was nothing like the place he’d shared with his grandma and parents growing up. It felt empty. The only parts of it that mattered were already in the back of a moving van; they were coming with us.

The art supplies and clothes and, yes, even Everett’s old Spiderman comforter—though I’d been the one to insist he keep that.

It wasn’t like the city wasn’t nice or anything. The food was great! We hadn’t eaten out in Cider Landing, though we probably could. There just weren’t as many options, but did I really care about that?

I liked cooking with Everett best.

Otherwise? Well, it seemed like there were interesting things to do—stores and theaters and that kind of stuff. When Everett drove us out of the parking garage, I peered out the window.

Everett caught me doing it. “Do you want to stay here longer?”

I tipped my head to the side as I stared at him. Sure, I was interested in everything—the buildings were freaking crazy big—but...“In the city?”

Everett nodded. I watched his profile, and his jaw flexed and his throat bobbed.

“Nope,” I said simply.

Everett furrowed his brow. “Why?”

I shrugged. “It’s not my place. I mean, I’m not saying I’d never want to visit again, and it’s interesting to see how much bigger the world is than I thought—cities are different than they are in the movies. Louder, definitely. But I love Cider Landing. I love that I know the streets, that I have friends there and I’m meeting more people every day. I love how quiet it is, and how there’s magic everywhere. And here, well...” Frowning, I looked out the window again. “I can’t say there’s no magic in a place like this, but it’s toomuch, like there’s a hard shell around it that you can’t pick off to get to the magic beneath. In Cider Landing, it’s like pulling back a curtain. Here, it feels like I’d need a chisel. I think it’d be exhausting, trying to keep your magic in a place like this.”

When I met his eye again, Everett was blinking at me. He glanced at the road, but only long enough to keep us safe. After a while, he turned back to look out the front, a frown playing at the corners of his lips.

“It is,” he whispered.

I reached across the center console, and he dropped one hand from the wheel to thread his fingers through mine.

“I’m glad we’re going home,” I whispered back.

It was early afternoon when we pulled the van up outside the house and started unpacking. Having all of Everett’s things there was really nice. He’d called his landlord before we left to do a walkthrough of the apartment, and the guy seemed okay. He’d let Everett pay extra to break his lease early, at least.

And that was that. Everett Bailey was mine, and he belonged in Cider Landing.

Everything else, we’d figure out.

We were carrying his things inside—boxes and suitcases and an easel and stuff, when I heard a strange sound behind me, kind of a scuffle and creak.

“Shit!” Everett cried.

I turned at the sound of a crash. Everett’s foot had caught on one of the loose porch boards. Now, it stuck up, a rusty nail exposed.

Worse, he’d dropped everything he was carrying, the large plastic crate’s lid popping open and spilling art supplies across the porch.

Everett’s brow furrowed, and as he picked up a little wooden man with configurable parts, he looked upset, almost heartbroken.

That couldn’t stand.

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