Page 115 of We Used To Be Magic

Her hands are trembling. I take them in mine, clasp them together – they’re so cold. She’s getting sodden in the rain, her thin dress clinging and sticking.

‘It’s fine. I was coming to find you. You called me.’

‘You’re bleeding. We have to go to the hospital—’

‘We don’t—’

‘You just got hit by a car!’

‘Thatyouwere in. Aren’t you the one who believes in cosmic whatever? Don’t you think it’s a sign?’

‘Don’t saythat,’ she wails, face crumpling. ‘I thought …’

And then she sobs, butting her head against my chest and throwing her arms around me.

‘Sorry,’ I say quickly, hugging her back. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—’

‘I love you,’ she says, voice muffled. ‘I love you, and for a second I thought I might have fucking killed you.’

I wonder then if maybe that cabdidn’tkill me – if this isn’t all just some beautiful dream, conjured by my dying brain.

‘I can’t be killed,’ I hear myself say. Audrey laughs, then looks up at me with huge, watery eyes.

‘It’s not funny,’ she says seriously. Then she laughs again, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.

‘You love me,’ I say, still dazed. ‘When did that happen?’

‘I – I don’t know.’ She sniffs, wiping her eyes. ‘Does it matter?’

‘No,’ I say, and without thinking I place my hand on the side of her face, cupping her cheek. It’s warm, wet with the rain – there’s some hair plastered to it and I gently push it away. She stares at me, lips slightly parted.

‘I love you too,’ I tell her. ‘I love you, and I think that this is fate, and I swear to God I’m not concussed.’

Audrey lets out a strange, hiccupping sob at that, burying her face back into my chest.

‘I – I think it’s fate too,’ she says, half laughing, half crying. ‘I just wish it hadn’t involved you getting hit by a car.’

‘These things happen,’ I say lightly. ‘Though if my inevitable facial scar is going to be an issue, I’ll understand if you want to bail. The nose is bad enough, and now …’

AUDREY

‘STOP IT,’ISAY CROSSLY,AND HELAUGHS–HE’S LAUGHING,ANDit’s the only sound I want to hear for the rest of my life. I glance back up at him, gently tucking his hair behind his ear to get a better look at his cheek. The blood is mingling with the rain, dripping down his face and staining his shirt collar pink.

‘We’ll need to dress it,’ I say weakly, trying not to get distracted by the pull of his liquid-brown eyes. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him – I feel intoxicated by his mere existence.

‘Yep,’ he says, though it’s clear he’s not really listening – his gaze has taken on a glazed quality, hovering over my lips. ‘How’s tomorrow for you?’

Tomorrow.

Somehow, amongst the chaos and the carnage and the sheer, dizzying joy of this moment, I almost managed to forget the immutable reality of my packed suitcase, waiting for me at the apartment alongside my passport. My heart sinks and Ezra sees it on my face, his own brow furrowing in concern.

‘I won’t be here tomorrow,’ I tell him quietly. ‘I’m leaving.’

‘Ah,’ he says after a beat, attempting a smile. ‘I guess I already kind of knew that.’

‘Really? Who told you?’

‘I just knew,’ he says simply, and if he were anyone else, I wouldn’t believe it.

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