Rush inhales, like she’s going to need the full strength of her lungs for what she has to do next. “You said it made your magic stronger.”

“Yeah . . .” And then I see the rest. Rush wants me to kiss her so we can find Imogen. And part of me — the part that’s made of magic — wants that, too. But the stupid boring Danny part is heartbroken.

“I love her,” Rush whispers, and those words hit my heart like a widowmaker. I’m pinned to the truth. “I love her, and I’ll always care about her, and I’ll never stop looking for her.” She starts shaking, probably because she’s wet and cold, and I put my hands on her upper arms, rub up and down slowly. Maybe it’s strange that I’m taking care of her while she’s saying these things, but she’s got this look on her face that keeps me right where I am. “Imogen was never really with me. She was halfway gone before she disappeared, and I didn’t want to admit it.”

“And now?” I ask. I’m shaking, too, like it’s contagious.

“Now I want something new,” Rush says, her voice unfinished, unpolished, raw.

I push forward and kiss her. I can feel every layer between us. Flimsy wet fabric. Clammy skin. Fear. And none of it matters, because I’m grabbing Rush and kissing Rush and I’m not stopping.

Not for Imogen.

Not for anything.

She dances me backward. Even in deep silence, she has music in her bones. And then I’m pressed between Rush’s softness and the soft bark of a tree. My head knocks back, and my teeth clamp down on my tongue, drawing out blood. My mouth goes salty-hot.

“Sorry,” Rush whispers.

I don’t want sorry.

“I want this,” I say.

“Yeah,” she says, kissing all along my collarbone. “I got that feeling.” Before embarrassment at how unsubtle I am sets in, her smile curves and she’s grabbing at her clothes, grabbing at mine. I feel like she would undress the tree and the ground and the night sky if she knew how. I tug at her hair, her hips, her thighs. I try not to think about her doing this with Imogen. I throw rocks at my thoughts, scatter them hard.

Rush stands back from the tree, taking on a silver glow that comes back now that the clouds are parting. The thunder and lightning have finally given up and the rain is starting to die off.

Rush’s naked body is like the world at night, moon-brushed hills and soft, dark shadows.

“I’m ready,” Rush says.

And I believe her.