There was real anguish in Evie’s tone, and Sawyer had a sudden flashback to her chatting with Jake’s mom at the annual art fair that was part of the Raspberry Festival. Jake’s mom had done a series of abstracts she’d entitled Magic, and they had captured young Evie’s imagination. She had loved the paintings, but she couldn’t afford any of them. But then Jake’s mom had given her one at the end of the festival, a small piece that hadn’t sold. Evie, delighted, had hung it up in her room at the inn.

He’d forgotten about that. Which was alarming, in a way, because he wouldn’t have thought he was capable of forgetting anything about Evie Abbott.

“I always liked her.” Evie looked up at the sky as she walked.

“I know,” Maya said. “Happily, Jamila is awesome, too. Everyone likes her, even Jake. No evil-stepmother stuff there.” She whistled. “And damn, I hate to say it, but I think Art likes her in a way that’s maybe a little more intense than with his first wife.”

They’d reached the pier. Sawyer stopped at the base of it and watched them walk out to the end. Since the rain had cleared out this morning, the weather had remained fair. Big and silver, the moon hung low, and it was reflected on the lake’s still, black surface, a rippled river of diamonds. Karl’s picture-postcard day had become a picture-postcard night.

He could hear the women murmuring, but out of respect for their privacy, he didn’t try to make out what they were saying, just let their voices—Evie’s voice; Evie was here—wash over him. Maya retracted her arm like a pitcher and hurled her flower into the lake. Evie extended an arm over the water, her flower cradled in her palm. As she stood there, pausing to conjure her wish, he could almost believe she had the power to freeze time. That the moon and the bay alike had paused, waiting silently as they prepared to grant her heart’s desire.

He had a wish, too. It wasn’t a fantastical, impossible, out-of-his-league wish. He hadn’t bothered with those since Evie left town. No, this was just a small wish. But it was strong. It flowed through his body, making him want to move, to run, shake all his limbs to try to release it into the wild. But he didn’t have a flower—an amaryllis or the real thing—so all he could do was stand there and let his wish consume him.

He wanted to know what Evie was wishing for.

Wishes Eve Abbott Considered While Sawyer Collins Stared at Her Back

1. That Sawyer Collins was not, in fact, staring at her back.