The Peregrine Passage

Epilogue: Adam

 It's late on New Year's Eve, now, and there's a newfound peace in Maple Ridge. Almost all the snow has melted, leaving only a dusting on the ground and a few slosh piles at the end of every street. Ms. Mirriam reported her known Order contacts to the feds, who took in the drugs and arrested both Mr. Fuller and Hazel's mom. Rowan's family was informed of the real reason behind his death, and everything went back to normal for the most part.

Hazel stayed with me for a couple of weeks, until she felt comfortable moving in with Ms. Mirriam, who gave her a spare room in her apartment above the bakery. Because of everything that's happened, the school gave us both passing grades in history, and I'm back on the team as soon as I'm finished with concussion protocol. Plus, something tells me that the contents of my college essay might outweigh any athletic scholarship I would've gotten.

We don't hang out as much as we did when we were figuring the mystery out, but we manage to get breakfast before school every Monday morning at the Boxcar. Truthfully, it's my favorite part of the week.

Something about the quiet of tonight makes me miss her laugh, though. I can't shake a sense of loneliness since we've stopped seeing each other every day. My phone buzzes, and my mouth upturns as I see her name flash across the screen.

Are you awake?

I respond almost instantly.

Yeah, why?

After a couple of minutes, I start to worry that she won't respond, but then it wouldn't be Hazel.

Look outside.

I jump up and run to my window, trying to hide the smile plastered across my face. She's standing there on the pavement below my window, illuminated only by a flickering streetlamp. Bracing myself for the cold, I open my window and yell down to her.

"Hey. Should I be concerned that you're standing ominously outside of my window?"

"Will you just come down already?" The exasperated tone in her voice makes me laugh.

"I'm on my way, creep." I tug on my dark green flannel before grabbing my coat and shoes. Rushing down the stairs, I try to be as quiet as I can without taking too much time. I'd rather not answer the interrogating round of questions I'm bound to hear from my mother.

When I open the front door, she's there standing on my front porch steps.

"Hey," We both chorus at the same time.

"Is there a reason that you're here?" It comes off more hostile than I intended, and I quickly add on.

"I'm glad you're here."

She gives me a small smile.

"Honestly, no. I just felt like I missed you. It felt kind of wrong to be alone tonight, and there was no one else I really wanted to be with—"

"Yeah?" She shoots me a look.

"Don't interrupt me. I just wanted to say, I don't know..."

"Hazel, I think you might be my favorite person."

Her smile gets a little bigger.

"Yeah, that." We can't seem to break eye contact for a minute, but neither one of us dares to move and ruin this feeling that's settled around us. That's the thing about Hazel—she feels new and exciting, but familiar in the best way.

A snowflake catches onto my eyelash and as I blink, I watch it melt.

"Maybe the storm's not over yet." She says, looking up into the dark clouds above us.

"I think we'll be in the clear for now." I grin down at her and, for the first time in a while, I'm looking forward to the New Year.