Page 96 of The Hallows Queen

I nod. “Maybe once a month. New York was always my mom’s favorite place.”

“So why did they settle down in North Carolina, then?” she questions, tipping her head to the side.

I shrug. “No clue. They moved us down when I was a baby. I always figured we would end up back in New York, since our family is here, but then my mom died… and you know the rest.”

She reaches across the table and slides her fingers through mine. “You think you’d want to live here again one day?”

Shaking my head, I run my thumb over hers. “I’d love to be closer to Trav, but I don’t think I could stomach the city for longer than a couple weeks before I went crazy.”

She laughs, nodding. “I get that.”

I lean forward. “What about you? Think you’ll stay in Luxington forever?”

“God.”She cringes, and I laugh. “I hope not.”

“So where are we going then?”

“We?” Her eyes sparkle with humor. “I wasn’t aware we were moving away together.”

I smile at her with my mouth closed, sliding my thumb over her hand. “You’re not going anywhere without me, baby.”

She pulls her hand from mine and sits back in her chair, staring at me. “And what about next year, when you go away to college?”

“You’ll come with me.” I lick my lips.

She blinks at me a few times, and when she opens her mouth to speak again, the waiter walks up and interrupts us.

Penelope orders herself a glass of wine, and I opt for some water to keep a level head, and once the waiter has walked away, I lean forward to grab her hand again. “You don’t want to come with me?”

A small smile touches her lips, “It isn’t that, H. Ijustmoved back to Luxington to be with my parents, I can’t just uproot my life again.”

“Why not?” I ask, feeling my chest heating.

“You don’t even know where you’re going yet. Can we just have this conversation closer to the time?” she says quietly. “I don’t want to fight.”

“Sure,” I say, feeling dread sink into my gut. Grabbing my menu, I start reading over the different Italian dishes they serve, and after a moment I realize I haven’t retained anything so I start over.

Lasagna. Rigatoni. Linguini. Eggplant Parmesan. She’s not going to come with me, she’s not going to come with me, she’s not going to come with me. I’m going to lose her.

My chest starts to swell, and my throat itches.

I clear my throat. “I’m going to go to the bathroom really quick.”

I kiss her on the head as I pass, the blood rushing in my ears, so I don’t hear her response. Closing myself in the bathroom, I find an empty stall and lock the door, digging around in my pockets for some Xanax.

I can’t fucking lose her.

Once I slide three bars on my tongue, I swallow them down dry, hating myself.

I take a deep breath, then walk out of the stall to wash my hands. I have a good ten minutes before the Xanax starts to soothe my anxiety, and I can get through that.

Washing my hands, I stare at myself in the mirror until the water turns hot and starts to hurt, then I dry my hands on some paper towels and throw them in the trash.

Our drinks have arrived when I make it back to the table, so after I sit back down, I swallow a mouthful of water to get the phantom feeling of pills stuck in my throat to go away.

“You okay?” Penelope asks, putting her wineglass down on the table.

“I’m fine,” I say, smiling at her and hoping it’s convincing. She grabs my hand again, and I run my thumb over her nail. “You know what you want to eat, baby?”

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