Page 83 of Welcome to Blackbird Hollow
“My bestie is a hottie,” I manage.
“Yeah, well, so is mine,” Fallon replies, reaching over to place two hands on my shoulders and gently turn me to face the big mirror leaning against the wall in the corner of her bedroom. “Like,godsdamn. Look at you, Blythe.”
I laugh, blushing, but I look. The woman framed by the carved wood is very different from what I usually see in themirror. She’s on the taller side, looking elegant instead of gangly for once, a golden kiss of sun to her skin thanks to the past few weeks with the Hayes. Her hair is down, the waves encouraged for once instead of subdued, softly framing her face.
Shimmery gold and green eyeshadow brings out her hazel eyes, complementing the creamy off-white dress that looks like it was made for her. Delicate beading beneath the bust glimmers, highlighting her waist, and the layered skirt offers a peek of her long legs.
“Hell,” I manage.
“I may have done too good a job,” she observes from behind me. “My brother’s gonna be distracted tonight.”
My blush deepens at the idea of Wyatt seeing me all dressed up. It’s silly, I know, but it’s not something I’ve ever really gotten to do. However, I certainlyhavewatched that scene a hundred times on all the old VHS tapes: the girl entering the party, everyone going silent because she looks so beautiful, but she only wants one person’s attention.
I draw in a deep breath.
He said he loved me.
Wyatt Hayes lovesme.
“Yeah,” is all I can force out, my blush deepening. It’s so unlike me, and I’m half-annoyed at myself because I’m here with Fallon right now, and I want to focus on her. But she just smiles down at me, something tender in her eyes.
“I’m so happy the two of you are happy,” she murmurs, wrapping her arms around me. I close my eyes and lean my head on her shoulder, pulling in the smoky, slightly floral scent of her. “Mostly because this makes it more likely you’ll stay forever.”
“If I came here and it was just you,” I say, “I would’ve stayed, too, Fallon. I hope you know that. You would’ve been enough for me. More than enough.”
She says nothing but squeezes me tighter with her powerful arms. I draw in another deep breath, trying to take a snapshot of this moment in my mind. You never know you’re living in the good old days until they’re over. No matter what happens, I want to remember this. Want to be able to close my eyes and smell it, feel Fallon’s arms around me, and know without a single doubt that I belonged somewhere.
When she pulls away, she’s carefully pressing her fingers to her lower lids. “We should’ve said the sappy thingsbeforemakeup,” Fallon laments, reaching toward her dresser and opening the top drawer. “Too bad. Here. I have a present for you.”
She hands me a battered box with a cream ribbon tied around it. “It’s a welcome gift. A ‘thanks for saying you’ll stay’ present. But before you open it, you have to promise that no matter what, we’ll be buried next to each other.”
I nod seriously, reaching out for the present. “Yeah, okay. Easiest promise I’ve ever made.” I pause, looking up at her. “If I die first, you have to do my makeup. I wanna look good in the forever box.”
Laughter bursts out of Fallon, bright as the sunrise. “Sure, Blythe,” she says before her eyebrows knit together. “But I’ll be really sad if you die first. I’m gonna have to forbid you from doing that. Sorry. Matriarch privileges and all.”
“Well, I don’t wantyouto die first,” I protest, handing the box back to her. “So I can’t accept.”
“Hmm,” Fallon says, crossing her arms and refusing to take the gift. “Okay, how about this: we gotta die on the same day.”
“Only if you promise we’ll also die in the same hour,” I counter.
Fallon offers a crisp nod. “Deal. Okay, open your present, you fucking weirdo.”
I snicker, pulling at the cream ribbon and then lift the top off. I part a few layers of tissue paper, only to find myself staring at Mr. Rabbit. Confusion stirs in my mind, but then I gasp.
“He has new eyes!” I exclaim, setting the box down on Fallon’s dresser and pulling the stuffed animal out. “And a sweater!”
Two gleaming black buttons are sewn onto Mr. Rabbit’s face, a perfect pair, replacing the one I had to cut off due to Sector’s bug. A little green knitted sweater covers his upper body, hiding all the cuts Caden had to make. Two tiny felt letters spell out BH, letterman jacket-style. My vision blurs with tears as I clutch Mr. Rabbit to my chest, my lower lip quivering.
“You’re gonna ruin all that makeup I did,” Fallon says, but there’s no venom in it.
“Your fault,” I manage, my voice wavering as I try to blink through the tears, staring down at Mr. Rabbit. “He’s perfect.”
“Wyatt made the sweater,” she explains. “Cade did some plastic surgery to make the stitches as invisible as possible. I found the buttons and cleaned him up. He needed some more stuffing and a good bath.”
“I don’t know how to thank you,” I say in a strained voice, hugging Mr. Rabbit closely. “For everything.”
Fallon smiles at me, an echo of that softness I saw in Widow’s dressing room returning to her face. “You can thank me,” she says, a near-feral grin taking over her features, “by not letting those tears ruin your makeup. And by having a damn good time tonight, Blythe. I think we’ve all earned it.”
