"Hey," I said to Knight. "I want to stop somewhere."

Knight had been quiet in the passenger seat—lost in thought—and it was slightly disconcerting to be in his presence without becoming lost in one hundred miles of minute of mindless chatter. Knight was an expert at mindless chatter; today, he just seemed to be lost. I smiled gently over at him; the dark sweep on his hair, the piercing eyes that refused to betray his hurt and his sadness and his pain. But today, they did betray his gratitude and relief and something that looking a little bit like healing.

At the sound of my voice, he snapped out of his reverie, offering me a cautious smile. "Tell me it's Maccas," he said, hopefully. "I've suffered trauma today and I can only be healed through the power of a chicky nuggie."

"I have heard of their life-affirming properties," I said drily. "But how do you feel about a fair? I'll buy you some fairy floss."

The pop-up shop was about a half hour away from the Knight house. A fair was an ambitious name for the small cluster of stalls arranged on a local footy oval, but there were still a bunch of people milling around the little food booths and thrifted clothing tables. The town, which was nearby Daria's place, was quaint and community-focused, so the large turnout for a tiny and rather grim affair hardly surprised me. I could picture Daria weaving through the crowds, with braids, a yellow sundress and a woven basket, buying little knickknacks and fresh vegetables that she didn't need, just to be kind.

"Was my thing just not depressing enough?" asked Knight, appraising the sight with suspicion. "Just needed a second dose of sadness and despair?"

"You're not rich and posh anymore," I reminded him. "So, you can hardly look down your nose at everything like an entitled, snotty brat."

"Like you weren't thinking the same thing," Knight scoffed.

I grinned at him. "I was. But I'm still rich and posh." Then I took off down the hill toward a brightly painted stall, Knight following right on my heels.

"What are we here for?" Knight complained.

I took a deep breath and stopped my campaign. "I found something out this morning."

"You had other things on your mind other than my retrieval?" said Knight, placing his hand on his chest. "Rude. That's not very best friend of you."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Now that I've admitted that you're my best friend are you just going to keep bringing it up?"

"Yes, best friend," said Knight with a cheeky grin that was all him. There were no traces of the lost boy in his smile. "Constantly, best friend."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, well. McKenna..." I took in a deep breath. "She told me that Jace was in love with some girl."

Knight did not gasp. Or look particularly horrified or shocked or excited. He just nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

I gaped at him. "What do you mean, yeah, okay?"

"Well, like, everyone knew that," said Knight. "I have literally told you that. Everyone has told you that."

"No, you didn't," I said, flabbergasted. "Was I supposed to just know that? Was this common knowledge?"

"Um, yes?" said Knight.

"Well, why didn't I know that?"

"Because you're an idiot," said Knight, tweaking my nose fondly.

"Did Jace tell you?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" Knight asked.

"Who the girl is!" I said forcefully. "Do you know?"

Knight looked at me strangely. His eyes were narrowed and slightly dazed; he was looking at me with a confusion. Then realisation dawned on his face, and his eyes widened. "Oh," he said. He nodded slowly. "You're a fuckwit."

I held my hands up. "What do you mean? Is it Kaelin?"

Knight was laughing now. "Oh, my god. Aren't you supposed to be smart?"

"Is it not Kaelin?"

Knight was practically doubled over at this point, and every time he looked at my expression, he was sent into a new fit of laughter. "Oh, lord. Oh, wow," he managed through gasping laughter. "Yeah, I'm not saying anything else. This is so funny."

I crossed my eyes and glared at him viciously. "You are the worst."

"By that you mean best friend for life, right?"

I couldn't help but grin. It had only been a day or so, but I had missed him so much I'd practically fallen apart at the seams. So, even though I would've gone to my grave before I would've said it a week ago, I said, "Yeah, that's what I mean."

Knight's answering smile was lopsided and grateful. Then he smirked and crossed his arms. "So, what are you doing about it? Is this part of our quest to find the mysterious object of Jace's undying affection?"

"Oh, shut it," I said, setting off down the hill again, beelining for that brightly coloured store. "This is what I'm doing about it."

Knight smiled brightly. "Oh, are you going to hide from your problems? Because if so, great hiding spot. No one would come to this thing. It's shit!"

"Not that."

It had been months since I'd looked at this stall. It was exactly as I remembered it. A haphazard assortment of colours and feathers and patterns; a perfect warning sign for the woman who lay within.

BECCY SHAW: PSYCHIC.

When Knight saw which stall I was heading towards, his skepticism grew. "Are you like, a superstitious voodoo lady now?" he asked. "Should I buy you some sort of aura cleansing crystal? Are you trying to cast some love spell or something, because as your bestest friend forever, I think that's dumb. No offence, but I don't think Jace's gaze will be easily turned from this girl he loves. Based on what I know of him." He grinned cheekily. "You know, if you are admitting that you're into him, and you want him to not be into this particular girl."

Those words twisted something in my gut. He was right. I wanted Jace to want me. I didn't want him to be in love with this mystery girl. I didn't want to be the next McKenna, or Marianna Holbrook. Not another girl that Jace Hartley would use in his quest to get over his one true love, or whatever. I was competitive, and I refused to go down without a fight.

"No," I replied. "Beccy Shaw told me I would fall in love with Jace. And I want to know why."

Because I wasn't superstitious, not really. But ever since that night in Phillip Island, a memory—one sentence, really—had been floating around in my mind, like water that I couldn't quite grasp for long enough, before it slipped through my fingers. And then, after McKenna had come to see me, it was as if that water had turned to ice, and I could pick it up, examine it; but what I found there was hardly a comfort.

Months ago, Beccy Shaw had told me that I would fall in love with my worst enemy. And she'd also told me that on April 19th, I would receive a gift. April 19th was the day I had found Cole Knight, sitting alone on a barely lit street.

And I was starting to think that her second prediction was dangerously close to being true.

You will fall in love with one you hate most, Beccy Shaw had said to me, all those months ago, in the little tent in which she had read our fortunes and proclaimed our future.

But she'd never said the same thing to Jace. Was McKenna right to warn me—to share her horror story of what it meant to be in love with Jace Hartley—because I was at dangerous risk of becoming the next girl to fall for him?

"Could it be because she had to sit next to your extremely palpable sexual tension?" said Knight. "Because we kind of have to talk about that. It's funny and all, but that's because I'm an easily amused perve. You should probably quit it in public."

"Can I rescind my offer? You're welcome to go back to the streets now."

"You're stuck with me now, best friend," Knight chirped. "Now get in there and pay more money for dear Beccy to state the obvious."

The inside of Beccy Shaw's tent was remarkably familiar. It's almost identical to the one Jace and I had stumbled into during the festival months ago; when my leg was broken, and I hadn't been able to go on the fun rides with the rest of our friends. Jace had offered to stay with me, keep me company. Why had he offered that? Why would he offer anything, when he hated me and was in love with some other girl?

Beccy was sitting behind the table, the pungent smell of weed fainter than I remembered, but still lingering. This was such a dumb idea. Beccy was no prophet, or witch; she was just a quirky stoner with a penchant for feathers. She seemed to be consulting a crystal ball with the same apathy that I would gaze down at a dead fly with.

"Hello, dear," said Beccy, her gaze unfocused. "Are you here to have your fortune read?"

I sat on the chair opposite her. "Not quite. I'm here to ask about a fortune you read me, a few months ago."

"If something bad happened to you, I take no responsibility and I'm not legally liable, so you can't sue me," said Beccy immediately, her eyes focussing and back becoming ramrod straight. It was the most clarity I'd ever seen from her.

Yeah, you knew your psychic was sketchy when she was worried about incurring legal fees. This was a terrible idea.

"Not quite," I said again. "Nothing bad happened. Well, depending on who you ask. Do you remember me?"

Beccy slumped back down into her relaxed ease, her mysterious and vague smile returning. "Remind me, please, dear. The spirits do not speak to me on this matter of names and the past, so concerned about the future they are."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I mean, I could hardly disrespect her. I was offering her my money, again. "I came to you in Mordialloc, a few months ago. I had a... friend with me. Well, he was an enemy at the time."

She reached a hand up to her chin, contemplative, but in an overdramatic way, as if her thoughts were bigger and brighter than mine. "The handsome one?" she asked. "With the nice manners?"

"I guess," I admitted with a scowl. "One could say that of him."

I was one.

"You told me that I would fall in love with my worst enemy," I said. "And my worst enemy was the... the handsome boy. Jace."

"Ah," said Beccy, a small smile teasing at the corners of her lips. "Was I right?"

"No," I said immediately. Then I groaned. "Yes. Maybe. I don't know." I waved a hand at her crystal ball. I mean, I was hardly a believer, but I was searching for answers, and since I was too scared to get them from Jace, a stoned hippie was a fine alternative, I guess. "What did they say to you? About... the falling in love with the enemy thing?"

Beccy held out her hand with a definitive stare. I sighed and placed a twenty in her palm; she leaned back with a satisfied smile. "You seem like the kind of dear who wants my honesty," said Beccy. "Rather than my prophecies."

"I admire that you can acknowledge they're not one and the same."

Her smile was sharp. "Perhaps they are not."

I inclined my head slightly, waiting. She knew I didn't believe in her superstitions. She also knew that I had money, and she wanted to be on my good side.

After a brief pause, she sighed and said, "It was not the crystal ball that told me that you would fall in love with the boy."

"How shocking."

"My dear, it's called basic deduction," said Beccy. She leant back in her chair, her eyes shrewd and wise; more than a druggie con-woman. "Anyone with eyes could see the, well, unresolved tension between you two—" she smirked "—and anyone with eyes could see that you were so blinded by hatred and idiocy that you hadn't noticed."

I was starting to get kind of sick of people calling me an idiot, but with every person who'd said it, I was starting to think it was remarkably close to the truth; I felt rather idiotic, pinned beneath Beccy Shaw's stare.

"Well, dear, honestly? He was such a handsome and charming young lad, and you clearly held feelings for him."

"I did not!" I protested.

But Beccy cut me off. "Whether those feelings were love or hate, I have no idea. But you'll find that we often walk a tightrope between the two, and it can be ever so easy to fall either way."

"So, you're saying I was in love with him?" I said sullenly.

Beccy laughed. "I have no idea, my dear. But I could see that what existed between you two was passion. And I figured that when you finally unstuck your head from your ass, you'd realise that your hatred was just a stupid childhood feud that you were too stubborn to let go of." She shrugged.

"Why didn't you say that he would fall in love with his worst enemy?" I demanded. Why was it just me? Was this Jace Hartley's final victory in our feud; unwittingly making me love him, and having me discover that he didn't feel the same?

Beccy's eyes were unfocussed and dreamy again. "He was already in love when he walked into my stall that day," she said.

My heart dropped. Jace was already in love, and I'd never had a shot in hell. I thought I might hate him again, but I knew, deep down, that the prospect of hating Jace Hartley was one that was far from my grasp now. I nodded slowly. "Do you know the girls name?" I said quietly.

"I do."

"Will you tell me?"

Beccy snorted a laugh. "No. I do not suffer fools. Now, you're clogging up my aura with your bad vibes. Come back to me, if you figure it out." She inclined her head. "I want to know how your story ends."

"Thank you for your time," I said absently. I knew it already, knew it down to my bones. Jace Hartley had been in love, had been long before the day I first kissed him in my bedroom. And there was nothing I could do about it. Fate had already decided my path for me. That path was heartbreak.

Jace Hartley, you win. After all this time, and after all these years, this is the one move that I cannot countermove. He outplayed me, and the worst thing was, he hadn't even meant to do it.

"No problem, stubborn," she said. "Can I just say, my dear. You would be far better off if you stopped being such an idiot."

"You cannot say that."

Beccy smiled enigmatically. I left Beccy Shaw's tent with the weight of the world on my shoulders.

Knight was waiting outside the door. "So, did you find what you were looking for?"

"Let's go home."

***

We're really on the home stretch now, kids.

Would you believe that this book will be marked complete by the end of the week?