Page 112 of Magic in the Moonlight

HANNAH

Idon’t think we’ll have a hard time convincing anyone we’re homeless. Although we tried to clean ourselves up, we’ve got messy hair, and our faces are streaked with dirt.

I adjust the gauzy scarf around my neck. The fae dress ended up being good for something—hiding my bite mark. After getting dressed into our human clothes, I tore a long strip off the bottom of the hem, then I tied it into a fashionable knot over my throat.

Unfortunately, the cute style won’t make up for the bad condition my clothes are in. My jeans are in one piece. Dirty, yes, but at least there are no holes. My shirt, however, is another story.

I’ve got on the flannel button-up Ellister had been wearing the day he took me from the meadow, but part of the right sleeve is ripped. I’ve hidden the defect by rolling up the cuffs.

Ellister changed into his jeans, and he’s got the beanie on his head, but his tank top isn’t weather appropriate. It’s too chilly to go sleeveless, but he doesn’t seem to mind the cold.

As we stand in front of the gift shop, I look to him for the bravery to go inside.

Giving me a nod of encouragement, he pushes the door open for me.

The bell chimes, signaling the arrival of a customer, and I walk into the store.

It’s almost exactly how I remember it. There are a few design differences. After all, the honey display along the back wall had been my idea, so it’s not there. Instead, there are shelves of syrup. And I’d been the one to insist on having a Christmas selection up year-round because people are always on the hunt for unique gifts, no matter what season it is. That corner just has some ‘Wildwood Maple Farm’ T-shirts.

Without me here, they’re not reaching their full potential—that much is obvious.

That’ll change if Ellister and I get hired.

But first, it’s time for me to get an answer to a very large, looming question. What year is it?

We always keep a calendar by the register. The kind that has those daily inspirational sayings. My dad loves those cheesy lines.

Walking over to the little flip book, I turn it around and swallow hard.

We’re an entire decade short of our goal. It’s ten years in the past.

Ellister’s behind me, and he gives my shoulder a comforting squeeze as he looks at the page.

Before he feels the need to issue an apology, I whisper, “It’s okay. It could be worse.”

“Can I help you?” a voice asks from behind the counter, cracking the way it does with boys entering puberty.

I’d been so focused on the calendar, I didn’t notice the kid. The teenage boy is close to Cody’s age. He resembles my cousin with the blond hair, but his eyes are the same color as mine.

He’s my height, but obviously not old enough to be officially working here. Which means he’s family.

His name tag says ‘Chase’ on it.

My breath gets caught in my throat, and my heart is going a mile a minute.

That’s the name my parents always talked about giving me if I’d been a boy. I think I’m looking at my brother.

I don’t know what to say, so with my clammy palm, I just squeeze Ellister’s hand.

“Are you campers?” Chase’s focus goes from our luggage to our faces.

Now is the time for me to respond like a normal person. I just can’t because my emotions are running wild. I don’t know if I should be happy to meet him or jealous that he has my life.

We look so much alike, and under the red apron, he’s wearing the Wildwood Maple Farm uniform that’s supposed to be mine. I’ve always wanted a sibling, and it’s such a mindfuck to see the actual person right in front of me, standing where I have so many times.

Thankfully, Ellister stays cool in most situations and speaks up. “We were thinking about staying for a while. Do you have a cabin available?”

“My mom does the vacation booking. Let me go get her.” Chase strolls away to the kitchen.

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