“Turn left here,” Allie told Mikey at the next corner, and as they turned onto the street where she once lived, a sense of dread began to fill that place that ought to be filled with great joy and anticipation… .

… For what if her father hadn’t survived the crash after all?

What if he went down that tunnel into the light in that terrible head-on collision, leaving her mother and sister to mourn for both of them?

“Are you okay?” Mikey knew something was wrong. Perhaps it was the way she sat so stiffly on the horse behind him, or perhaps their spirits had become so in tune, he could sense the things she felt.

“I’m fine.”

She also had another reason for her reluctance, and her mind was drawn to her coin. It had been cold in her hand, which meant she was not ready to leave Everlost. She was not ready to move on. Now, as she thought about it, she realized why. She would never be ready for that final journey until she went home, and saw the truth with her own eyes. Her whole Everlost existence had been leading to this—and yet she had stalled for as long as she could.

Because going home meant completion.

Once she learned what had become of her parents, there would be nothing holding her to Everlost. Her coin would grow warm, and although she could resist it at first, she knew she wouldn’t be able to resist it for long. She would hold it in her hand, she would make the journey.

And she would lose Mikey.

For this reason, her return to Cape May was both something she longed for, and something she dreaded—but she would not share such private feelings with Mikey.

When they stood on her street, a pang came to her chest. She knew she shouldn’t be able to feel pain, but sometimes emotions could coalesce into phantom aches when they were strong enough.

“There it is,” she said. “The third house on the right.”

Home. Even in the faded tones of Everlost, it looked just the same as she remembered. An unassuming Victorian house, white with blue trim. Her parents had moved to Cape May to capture some rustic charm in a modern world, so they bought an old house with plumbing that rattled, and thin wiring that could never quite grasp the concept of computers and high-voltage appliances. Circuit breakers were constantly popping, and Allie had complained endlessly about it when she was alive. Now she longed for the simple act of turning on a hair drier and plunging the house into darkness.

“Wait here,” she told Mikey. “I need to do this alone.”

“Fair enough.”

She hopped down from the horse, already feeling an uncertainty in the ground beneath her. It felt less like tar, and more like Jell-O just before it sets. She had to move fast.

“Good luck,” Mikey said.