Page 75 of Our Little Moments

“Yeah. At least,” he says sarcastically.

I laugh and try to climb the tree. With the state of my magic, I’m not sure I’ll be able to free him unless I can touch the branches with my bare hands. Except that, with all the branches merged together, it’s impossible for me to climb the tree.

I look up at him. “I need to touch the branch to get you out, but I can’t climb. Do you mind—Woah!”

A sudden wind, so strong that it makes me lose my balance and fall, lifts me from the ground and up into the air. It’s almost like solid ground beneath my hands and legs, yet incredibly comfortable, like the feel of a cloud.

Jay’s magic gently deposits me on the branch. My curls are a mess, and my shoes practically flew off. Jay and I are both chuckling as I wrap my hands around the branches, willing my magic to come back to life.

Don’t let me down now, please.

“Hey,” Jay says gently. “There’s a weird butterfly in your hair.”

A smile blossoms on my face. “Good.”

Sparkles of my magic, the glowing butterflies, all surround us as a pulse hits my bloodstream. I focus on it and, when I feel my powers at my fingertips, I push the branches apart to free Jay’s leg.

He celebrates below me as he uses his abilities to land his fall and I laugh. I lie down on the branches, in awe of myself.

I did this. The part of me I thought was gone . . . It’s coming back.

Jay uses his magic to help me back down, and I can’t wipe the grin off my face.

I’m finding the parts of me I thought were lost before coming here, and I can’t help but wonder if I could have done it without these people.

Adrian

I’m the last one remaining.

I didn’t bother trying to climb a tree—it was a futile effort. Still, it seems my simple hiding spot is the best one yet.

A sniffling sound pulls me into high alert. Uncaring about this whole game, I walk out to find the source. My heart breaks when I see her golden hair and colorful clothes.Hazel.

I run to join her, leaning against a rock from the mountain. I sit next to her, and her wild eyes meet mine. I slowly wrap my arm around her shoulder, giving her the time and space to back away if she needs to. I don’t know where to stand with her anymore, and I fully expect her to bolt away.

Instead, for the first time in years, she practically jumps on me to wrap her arms around me, crying. I hold her tighter, my cries almost matching hers.

“What happened?” I ask gently.

“We win, I found you,” she replies with the worst attempt of a laugh I ever heard.

I smile sadly. “Hazel . . .” I murmur, my heart breaking.

“Adrian. I hate seeing you all like this,” she cries.

“Like what?” I ask, my voice cracking.

“Like we just got the news Mom and Dad died. It’s like you’re always reliving that day.”

Her words are a bullet to the chest. I’d always hoped Hazel was too young to perceive everything happening in our home, how hard the grief was hitting us.

But my little sister’s always been emotionally perceptive.

“Grief isn’t easy, Hazel.”

“Healing isn’t either, Adrian.”

My throat closes.

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