Beautiful Chaos (Caster Chronicles 3)

Macon put his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll take care of Amarie, Ethan. Whether she wants me to or not.”

I started walking toward the rusty metal ladder.

“Do you want me to come with you?” John called after me.

I shook my head. This was something I had to do alone. As alone as you can be, when half of your soul is trailing you everywhere you go.

“Ethan—” It was Macon. I held the side of th

e ladder. I couldn’t turn around.

“So long, Mr. Wate.” That was it, a handful of meaningless words. All there was left to say.

“You’ll take care of her for me.” It wasn’t a question.

“I will, son.”

I tightened my hands on the ladder in front of me.

“No! My boy!” I heard Amma screaming, and the sound of her feet kicking as Macon held her back.

I started climbing.

“Ethan Lawson Wate—” With every ragged scream, I pulled myself higher. The same thought playing over and over again, in my mind.

The right thing and the easy thing are never the same.

12.22

Finally

I was standing on the top of the white water tower, facing the moon. I had no shadow, and if there were any stars, I couldn’t see them. Summerville was stretched out before me, a scattering of tiny lights, all the way to the blackness of the lake.

This had been our happy place, mine and Lena’s. One of them, at least. But I was alone now. I wasn’t feeling happy. I wasn’t feeling anything but fear—and like I wanted to throw up.

I could still hear Amma screaming.

I knelt for a second, resting my hands on the painted metal. I looked down and saw a heart, drawn in black Sharpie. I smiled, remembering, and stood up.

It is time. There is no turning back now.

I stared out at the tiny lights, waiting to get up the courage to do the unthinkable. The dread churned in my stomach, heavy and wrong.

But this was right.

As I closed my eyes, I felt the arms slam into my waist, knocking the air out of me, dragging me down to the metal ladder. I caught a glimpse of him—of me—when my jaw hit the side of the railing, and I stumbled.

He was trying to stop me.

I tried to throw him off. I leaned forward and saw my Chucks kicking. Then I saw his Chucks kicking. They were so old and thrashed they could have been mine. This was how I remembered it from the dream. This was how it was supposed to be.

What are you doing?

This time, he was asking me.

I threw him against the floor, and he landed on his back. I grabbed the collar of his shirt, and he grabbed mine.

We looked into each other’s eyes, and he saw the truth.