Tommy
I slipped into Aunt Stephanie's room behind her, closing the door softly, my heart pounding like I'd just run through the woods.
Downstairs, I could still hear the tail end of my parents' raised voices. Father was furious — of course he was. He hated being surprised, hated losing control, and Aunt Stephanie's sudden arrival had ripped control right out of his hands.
Aunt Stephanie leaned against the dresser, arms crossed, eyes sharp. "Tommy," she said, her voice low, "your father thinks he knows every move before it's made. But he didn't see this one coming. That gives us time."
Time. The word filled me with a shaky kind of hope. "What are we going to do?" I asked, my throat dry.
She pushed a strand of dark hair back from her face, considering. "First, we rally the town. People need to know exactly what Jonathan's planning — the destruction, the displacement, the impact on the town and the people. He'll try to make it sound like progress, but once the residents and business owners see what it really means, they won't stand with him. He thrives on quiet deals. We shine a light."
I nodded, almost dizzy with relief. She wasn't brushing me off. She wasn't laughing at me the way Father always did. She was serious and she had a plan.
"And second," she continued, her tone cooling to steel, "we prepare the fallback. Environmental groups, legal petitions, appeals to the council. If Jonathan tries to steamroll his way through, we'll be there waiting. He thinks he's too powerful to be stopped, but no one is above scrutiny — not even your father."
The idea of him finally being held accountable made something twist in my chest. Hope. Anger. Both.
"You really think this can work?" I asked, too afraid of the answer to breathe.
"I do," she said firmly. "But make no mistake — he'll fight back. He'll call in favours, offer bribes, bend rules, just like he always does. That's why we won't rely on a single tactic. It has to be layered, relentless. Patience and pressure."
I let out a long breath, my fists loosening. For the first time in weeks, I didn't feel helpless.
Aunt Stephanie's eyes softened, and she stepped closer, resting a hand on my shoulder. "You did well to write to me. That letter was brave, Tommy. You saw what others didn't — or wouldn't — and you acted. That's no small thing."
Heat shot to my cheeks. "I just… couldn't stand it. I've come to love it here —" I broke off, words tangling in my throat. I couldn't quite say everything out loud, not even to Aunt Stephanie.
But she smiled knowingly. "I understand. You care. And that's nothing to be ashamed of."
Her voice more gentle but still carried weight. "But remember this: don't play the hero on your own. Leave the big fights to me. Observe. Support. Protect when you need to. Jonathan won't see you as a threat — not yet. That's an advantage. Use it."
I nodded, a hot swirl of excitement and nerves churning inside me. For once, I wasn't powerless. For once, I had someone on my side.
But Emma didn't know.
The thought struck hard, almost making me stumble. She had no idea I'd reached out to Aunt Stephanie, that I'd set this into motion nearly two weeks ago with a single desperate letter. She thought she was losing everything, and all this time, I'd been holding on to this secret hope.
I needed to tell her.
I slipped out of the house just after lunch, my pulse loud in my ears, and headed for the woods. The air smelled damp, earthy, alive, and for the first time it didn't feel like a graveyard.
She was there — as she always was — waiting in the clearing with Zoey. Her face lifted when she saw me, softening into that look that always made my chest ache.
But when I reached her, the words jammed in my throat. How could I say it? How could I make her believe me?
"Tommy?" she asked, tilting her head. "You look... What's happened?"
I sank onto the blanket beside her, my knees buzzing. "I have to tell you something."
Her eyes widened, wary but curious.
"My aunt — Stephanie — she just arrived, but it wasn't by accident." I swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "I wrote to her. Almost two weeks ago. I told her what Father was planning, what it would mean for your family, for the woods. I begged her to come."
Emma froze. Absolutely still. Her eyes searched mine, as if waiting for me to laugh and say it wasn't true.
"You… what?" she whispered.
"I wrote to her," I said again, my voice unsteady, but certain. "I told her everything. And now she's here. She came to stop him. Because of us. Because of you."
Her lips parted, but no words came. She shook her head slightly, as if she couldn't make the pieces fit. "You… you did that?"
I nodded, my hands trembling in my lap. "I couldn't just sit and watch. Not while your father packed boxes, not while your family thought there was no hope. I had to try."
She blinked rapidly, herveyes bright with emotions I couldn't untangle. Shock, disbelief, something deeper. "I didn't know," she whispered. "You never said a word."
"I wanted to," I admitted. "But I wasn't sure she'd come. And if she didn't, I didn't want to give you false hope. I thought… I just needed to hold back until I knew…"
Emma pressed a hand to her mouth, her shoulders trembling. Zoey tugged at her again, oblivious, but Emma didn't look away from me. "All this time," she murmured. "I thought you were just… as stuck as me. And you were fighting it, behind my back."
"Not behind your back," I said quickly. "For you. For us."
She finally let out a shaky laugh that broke halfway to a sob. "I don't know whether to be furious you kept it from me, or… or…"
I leaned closer, desperate for her to understand. "Or what?"
Her eyes locked on mine, shimmering. "Or throw my arms around you and kiss you!"
Something in me cracked open at that. I reached for her hand, and this time, she didn't pull away. Her fingers curled into mine, strong, certain, trembling.
"I don't know what's going to happen," I whispered. "Father will fight, you know he will. He'll call in favors, he'll twist the rules. But Aunt Stephanie has a plan. She believes we can stop him."
Emma's breath hitched, her gaze flicking between my eyes like she was trying to decide whether to believe me.
"I've never known you to lie," she said finally, voice raw. "So I guess I have to believe it. Even if it feels impossible."
"It's not impossible," I said, fierce now, my grip tightening on her hand. "Not if we're in it together."
For a long moment, we just sat there, the woods wrapped around us, our joined hands the only thing steady in the world.
Emma's lips curved into the smallest, most fragile smile. "I don't know how to thank you."
"You don't have to," I whispered. "Just don't give up."
She nodded, slowly, and rested her forehead against mine. My chest thudded with all the words I couldn't say — love, devotion, forever — but for now, the silence between us was enough.
For the first time since it all began, we weren't powerless.