18: Ramsy.

Julia looks at the high stone walls penning us in from all sides, then over at me, chewing on her bottom lip. "I was still thirteen when you started to build them. It was silly...but I convinced myself it was my fault. That my trespassing was the final straw."

"In a way, it was," I say, surprising myself.

Surprising Julia, too. "How?"

"You...were the last good thing, the last genuine person I met before my family descended like vultures, picking me apart. And I guess I just wanted to let my hatred fester. If you came back, I never would have been able to do it." My laughter is slightly uneven. "I was right, wasn't I? You're back here for one day and I've already..."

We stop at the gate the leads out to the cliffs. "You've already what, Ramsy?"

I force the words out, even though they leave me vulnerable. Flapping in the wind like a goddamn sheet on the drying line. "I don't want to hate anymore." I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the softness of her expression making it dif