Page 52 of Summertime Hexy
Of course she does.
Because Hazel Blackmoore doesn’t know how to let go. Not really.
And gods help me, neither do I.
“She’s not like the others,” I say, barely a whisper.
“Nope,” Milo says. “She’s better.”
He hops off the bucket and starts walking away.
Pauses.
Looks back over his shoulder.
“Ask her to stay,” he says. “Or don’t. But stop making her feel like leaving’s the only way to keep herself whole.”
And then he’s gone.
And I’m left alone.
With a dull blade, a bruised heart, and the ghost of what it would feel like to ask her.
Tochooseher.
CHAPTER 19
HAZEL
There’s a difference between being alone and beingleft.
One is choice. The other’s a punch to the chest.
I’m figuring that out in real time as I sprint toward the south ward line, heart in my throat and my wand vibrating with pure panic.
“Tell me this is a prank,” I mutter, ducking under a low-hanging branch. “Tell me some chaos gremlin threw up a spooky illusion and not?—”
Nope.
No such luck.
A pulse of dark energy slams through the air, nearly knocking me off my feet. My hair stands on end. The ground hums beneath my boots. Magic crackles—wild, unstable, ancient.
I slide to a stop just in time to see it.
The tear.
It’s not big. Maybe six feet across. But it’swrong. A jagged gash in the veil between worlds, stitched in shadows and screaming softly like the space around it is trying to hold its breath.
And next to it?
A kid.
Of course.
Ashwin.
One of the first-year apprentices, barely old enough to summon a spark without setting his robes on fire. He’s standing in front of the tear with a look on his face that says,Oops, I broke reality and also maybe my pants.
