Page 62 of The Neighborly Thing To Do
I’m in awe of this little girl. Not a little girl anymore, and I see the grown woman in front of me, but I also see the eight-year-old who held my hand at the funeral, who was patient when I learned to braid her hair and make chicken fingers the right way. I see every tantrum and late night doing homework and tough conversation, every movie night and inside joke and shopping trip. This little girl—mylittle girl—is something else. Something amazing and beautiful.
I still don’t know how she’s here, but I’m glad I get the opportunity to see her come into her own like this.
“Not that it should ever come to this,” she spits, now turning her ire on Hugh. “But even if you get them to throw her out, I still own half that house, and I wouldn’t sell it to you for allthe money in the world, and you don’t have a handy excuse to force me out. You will never have that house. I’d like to think my mother would be ashamed of you for trying to take it from me.”
Murmurs break out in the crowd.
“I said my piece,” Georgia informs everyone after a moment. “But know that, if you vote against my sister, you’re dead to me forever.”
She extends a hand to me, and I walk over to her on unsteady legs. My eyes dart to the crowd, to Finn, who’s watching G and I with pride.
It’s silent for a moment, but then Sarah Delaney speaks up. “Call a vote, Mr. Davies,” she says. “If you’re still cowardly enough to not turn this man away under your own power.” She crosses her legs at the ankle, sitting back in her chair to take him in, eyes squinted, and I think for a moment that she’s trying to see into his soul.
Mayor Davies clears his throat. “All those who consider Cassidy Prylor as an exception for our rules about humans owning property here?”
Hands go up. I spin in a half-circle, as far as I can go with G still holding me, but there’re hands as far as the eye can see. Not everyone, but—I try to rapidly count, but the movement of the crowd and the speed my brain is moving at make it difficult.
I see Sarah and Pat and Finn, and there’s Caroline. And all of the old ladies who I see at the market all the time. And Georgia’s old English teacher. And so many more.
G shoves her hand up, using her free hand to drag my own hand in the air. My heart is in my throat. Do I get a vote?
“The motion carries,” the mayor murmurs quietly. “Cassidy is welcome to stay in town and keep possession of the property.” His eyes flick over to Hugh. “Perhaps we can work something—”
Hugh jumps out of his chair, thunder on his face. “You’re making a mistake,” he says coldly. “You’re throwing away the chance to make this townsomething. You’re corrupting what this town is meant for.”
Finn steps up beside me, wrapping an arm around me so I’m firmly held between him and Georgia. “I don’t take advice on who this town is meant for from someone who hasn’t been here in twenty years,” he says. “And if this town stands for asking people to sacrifice for us and then screwing them over the minute we don’t need them anymore, then fuck it.”
I almost expect Sarah to scold him for the language—Finn might be nearly forty, but she seems like that type of mother regardless—but all she says is, “Hear, hear.”
“When this whole town is overrun by humans, when you realize you could have been a model for what a supernatural town could have been but you gave it up, don’t come crying to me,” he fumes.
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” Sarah calls, and, to my amazement, he storms out.
As soon as he’s gone, it all catches up to me. It’s over. The house is mine. I won’t ever face being thrown out of town because I’mhumanagain.
I feel like Finn and Georgia are holding me up entirely, supporting all my weight as I nearly collapse.
They both hug me at the same time, crushing me between them. “Oof,” I complain, but I don’t mean it, not really. This is the perfect place to be, between my two favorite people in the world, knowing that I won.
Chapter 30
Cassidy
Watching G’s little owl body try to fly between the enormous wings of the Delaney family is comical in a way. Then again, I’m punch-drunk. I think everything is funny right now.
When we land, Sarah looks the three of us over. “We’re serving dinner at our house in one hour,” she says. “Don’t be late.”
“I—” I begin, but G elbows me in the side.
“Yes, ma’am,” she says, nodding her head. “We’ll be there.”
Finn puts his hand on the small of my back again, murmuring, “My mother likes you,” as we walk into my house.
“Does she,Finny?” I ask.
He shudders. “My mother is the only person to ever call me that, so if you were going for libido-killing nicknames, you found one,” he whispers, hopefully quietly enough that Georgiacan’t hear us. “Not even a nickname, it’s exactly the same number of syllables asFinley, I swear…” he mutters.
I stare at him. It’s delightful to see this side of him that his mother evidently drags out. “I’ll stick withbaby, then.”
