“I’ve been trying to find you,” he says, his voice urgent, panicked. “I saw the fire. You have to get out of here.” He holds out a hand to me, but I don’t take it.

“I thought you were here,” I explain, “in this house. But—” But instead I found Max. I swivel back to face Max, and Oliver’s gaze lifts too, seeing Max for the first time. His expression sinks, fury and hatred seething behind his eyes. Forming a line that runs from his temples to his chin. I want to ask him what’s wrong, what he sees when he looks at Max that makes his jaw constrict.

But I wheel my gaze back to Max. “I told you he’s alive,” I say, the words choked out. Like a part of me doesn’t believe them.

Max’s face softens and he looks from me to the doorway. “What?” he mutters.

“You were wrong,” I say. “You didn’t watch Oliver drown.”

Max rakes his hands through his hair, as if pulling out the strands from his scalp. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he barks, eyes scanning the doorway where Oliver stands, anger thudding through him. “You’re just as strange as everyone says you are,” he adds, his grin turned sour. “They say you should be locked up, that you’ve lived in this forest too long—that no one can stay sane in these woods.”

I scowl at him. “I’m not insane,” I answer, wishing I had a better comeback, wishing my head wasn’t so full of smoke. “Oliver’s not dead,” I snap, but when I turn back to look at Oliver, his expression has changed. He’s no longer looking at Max—he’s looking at me, his mouth flattened, eyes pouring through me with the deepest kind of sadness. With guilt and regret and maybe even pity.

“Nora—” Oliver begins.

But he’s cut off by Max. “There’s no one there, witch girl,” Max says, pointing to the door. “You’re talking to yourself.”

I shake my head, confusion and fear suddenly clattering down every joint, and I step away from Oliver, holding a palm in the air.

I don’t know what’s happening.

“Weird little witch girl has lost her mind,” Max jeers, laughing now. He says something else, but I can’t hear. He laughs and more sparks skitter through the doorway, smoke filling the house. The fire is close now. But I don’t care.

Max can’t see Oliver. He’s standing right beside me, but Max doesn’t see him.

I was wrong.

So fucking wrong.

I take another step away from Oliver, trying to swallow, trying to find the right words, but they never form.