Page 60 of Find My Way Down to You

When I’m closer to getting back to London.

Cary stands taller. “There are rules—”

“I don’t want to hear aboutrules, Cary,” I groan. “I’m coming back.”

He looks down and shakes his head.

I shift on one foot, ready to walk again. “You can’t stop—”

Before I finish, he says, “A mortal can only cross over five times. After that, they are forced to make a choice.”

My voice goes small. “What choice?”

There’s a long pause. I see the battle play out on his face: the pull of keeping the secrets of Aides hidden and the push of not wanting to lie. Every second that passes, the ache in me grows.

His mouth dips. “Remain here, for eternity. Or never return. Not until death.”

The shock of his words rattles me.

“It is an unbreakable rule.”

Is thatregretin his voice? No, it couldn’t be. What would the ferrier of souls—someone as frigid and unmoved as Cary—have to feel sorry for?

My pulse punches against my tonsils.

For eternity. Or never return.

I close my eyes. Of course this wasn’t going to be easy. I’m in the underworld. A place like this comes with unbreakable rules. Life-or-death ones.

My ears ring. A somber note on repeat. I can’t stay here forever. What about my parents? And Max? Santa Barbara has always been my home.

But is it still?

All my life, I’ve known the roads. The taste of the ocean breeze. The best places to watch sunsets. Now, though, every part of the city haunts me. Reminds me of London.

It’s not like that in Aides. Here, I can breathe. I don’t feel the pain ofwhat wasversuswhat is. Here, I could be with London.

I drag a hand roughly through my hair, thinking. Then it comes to me. Something Cary said minutes ago.

“You said five times?”

He nods again, squinting.

“But I’ve only been here twice,” I say, more to myself than him. My lips are tugged into a grin. “So I can come back for the party. That’ll only be the third time.”

“Yes, but—”

“So Icancome back,” I repeat, resolute.

Cary rubs his forehead. “You should be careful.”

“Why do you care what I do?” I laugh at his narrowed glare. “You didn’t invite me. You don’t even want me here. What does it matter what I do?”

Curls fall over his brow, shadowing his eyes. Icily, he says, “I do not.”

“Great. Then I’ll do what I want.”

“Based on your history, this does not surprise me.”