Page 33 of The Order of the Bitter Hunt

“The murders are still happening, then? Do you know if it’s connected to the last time?”

Does therapy still help if I lie to her every session?

“I don’t know. It could be something else… but that’s even scarier, isn’t it?”

“It is. And you’re so strong, so brave, to get through this time and time again. You’re still here. You’re talking to me, even when it’s hard. That tells me how powerful you are.”

She sounds so earnest, but powerful is the last thing I feel.

“Thank you.”

“Grounding is even more important right now, and don’t forget your affirmations. Come up with some new ones if you need to…”

Her voice fades into the back of my mind.

Therapy is helpful, and she’s already done a lot to improve my life, but I have the sneaking suspicion she won’t be able tohelp me with this problem until I’m no longer surrounded by death and sorrow.

There’s a chance that day will never come.

She asks me to ground, but I can only think of Poppy. She’s already six feet under, as grounded as she can be.

ONE YEAR EARLIER

I’m a tornado as I waltz into the café to meet my friend. Poppy and I don’t connect as much as I would like, but it’s difficult to make time when I’msupposedto be on the other side of the world. If I’m constantly flying into town, she might become suspicious.

When I finally reach out, she agrees to meet at the café without question.

It’s a gray spring morning. Poppy lounges in her usual spot in the corner with a sketchbook on her lap.

Nothing makes me happier than seeing her, but lately, I find it harder to be overjoyed by the sight. I never realized the starving artist cliché was real until Poppy graduated and went off alone. Each time I see her, she looks frailer than the last.

I help her as much as I can, giving anonymous donations online, but the help she needs is beyond what I can do without her realizing it’s me. She’s too proud to accept major help from me or anyone else, but now and then, she’ll let me surprise her with a meal delivery to her apartment.

It’s the least I can do.

“Darling!” I bend to kiss her on each cheek, leaving a lipstick mark behind. She doesn’t bother rubbing it off as I sit across from her.

She greets me, and the joy radiating from her is genuine.

The weakness in her disappears as soon as she smiles, and she becomes what I’ve always known her to be—the sun.Mysun. With her golden hair and her light green eyes, she radiates in the vibrant café.

The only one I’m willing to share her brightness with is Tobey.

My love for Tobey knows no bounds, but they abandoned us in Castine. They didn’t leave for a lively city, either. New York, I would have understood. Even Los Angeles. Instead, they’re living in Portland, Maine.

It’s a quaint city, and it’s less than an hour away. They can do better.

“What brings you to Castine?” Poppy asks, setting her book down.

“Ah, my mother was coming to visit, so I thought I would follow her,” I say. “Any opportunity to see you.”

Of course, it’s more complicated. Truthfully, this year’s play is over, and I have more time to spend with my friends. Perhaps I can share it, but the words die in my chest instead.

I have many things to tell Poppy, but they’re secrets I keep under lock and key. We live different lives now, and I don’t wish to rub mine into her cheerful face.

There’s a hint of sorrow behind Poppy’s smile. It’s new, but I see it as a sign of maturity. I’m growing and changing. Why shouldn’t she, too?

“I’m glad you could make it,” she says. “Castine isn’t the same without you.”