“Maybe. But this feels bigger than all of that, you know? I mean, they’re my biological parents. They were supposed to love me. And I know how awful I sound right now, since I’ve gotten to live with two super-awesome families and you’ve been stuck with your mom and dad. I realize how lucky I am. And I shouldn’t need anything else. I just… it’s hard to explain.”

“I get what you mean, though,” Keefe told her, twining their fingers together. “And I wish I was better at the whole ‘saying smart stuff’ thing. But… whether you know your biological parents, or don’t know them, like them, hate them—whatever—I know you’ll find a way to get through this. It’s one of the things I’m always jealous of about you. You just… handle stuff. No running away or making a bunch of huge mistakes. Somehow you keep your head clear and just dig in and deal. It’s pretty amazing.”

A smile peeked out of the corners of Sophie’s lips. “Thanks.”

He nodded. “And if you need any help, I’m here.”

“I may take you up on that,” she told him, clinging to him a little tighter before she forced herself to let go of his hand. She sat up straighter. “I guess we should get back to plan A, huh?”

Keefe grabbed the blue notebook and pen, tapping his fingers against the blank lists he’d created.

Tap tap tap tap.

“You know, Foster,” he said quietly, “you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… I can feel how much you’re dreading it—and I don’t blame you for that. So… if you want to keep one unsolved mystery about your past, I just want to make sure you know that no one will judge you.”

She frowned. “Pretty sure they will.”

Keefe sighed. “If you’re worrying about all the matchmaking crud—don’t. No one’s going to care that you’re unmatchable. At least not anyone who matters.”

“Yes, they will,” she argued. “You know they will. Especially…”

She couldn’t bring herself to use the name.

Keefe looked away, tapping the notebook harder—tap tap tap tap tap—before he blurted out, “Fitz’ll get over it.”

Ro sighed super loudly, but Keefe shook his head and turned back to Sophie. “I’m his best friend. I know these things. I mean, he’s Fitz, so yeah, odds are he’ll need a little time to get used to everything—and I’ll be right there to make sure he doesn’t say something he regrets while he’s adjusting. But he’s liked you for a really long time—longer than he even realizes. So trust the Empath—a piece of paper with or without your name on it isn’t going to change that. Fitz has also had to deal with being related to Alvar, so he’ll understand why you might not feel ready to go exploring the sketchier parts of your biological family tree.”

Sophie wanted to scoop up the words and hug each and every one of them—and then hug Keefe for being sweet enough to say them.

But that didn’t mean she believed him.

“Come on, Keefe. We both know I’m already the weird human girl with the wrong color eyes who keeps getting caught up in a ton of drama. The whole time I’ve lived here, people have blamed me for the bad stuff that’s been happening and threatened to banish or exile me. So if I’m also unmatchable—and someone dates me anyway? It’ll be like… the scandal of the century.”

“Maybe,” he agreed. “But that won’t matter to anyone who cares about you. It won’t,” he insisted, before she could argue. “And honestly… don’t you think that’s how it should be?”

Yes.

She really did.

But she’d also been through enough to know that life didn’t always work out the way it should.

“The thing is,” she said quietly, scraping together a truth she rarely even admitted to herself, “I’m not sure if I can handle the drama of being unmatchable either. I know you think I’m a pro at dealing with stuff, but… I’m tired of always being the exception to everything. All I’ve ever wanted to do is belong. And having my name on match lists feels like the best proof I’ll ever have that I really am supposed to be here, you know? It’s not just about crushes and dating.”

Keefe studied her for a long second, like he was testing her resolve. Then he held up the blue journal. “Okay. On with plan A, then! But I agree with Gigantor. You need to rest. No offense, but… you look super wiped—and by the way, I’m going to need more info on the whole Bangs-Boy-stirring-up-your-echoes thing so I know how hard I need to smack Tammy the next time I see him. But we’ll get to that later. Right now, you’re going home, and I’ll stop by tomorrow with the lists so we can start working on a strategy.”

Sophie shook her head. “Uh, to quote you, ‘There’s no way you’re investigating my past without me.’ ”

He smirked. “Yeah, that argument’s going to work about as well for you as it did for me. And come on, Foster, do you really think you’re up for spending hours brainstorming bio-mommy-and-daddy names? You almost passed out after two minutes—and I’d probably do the same thing. This is rough stuff. And you’re already beat. So let me help. All I’m doing is making lists.”

Her stubborn side wanted to keep arguing, but annoyingly he was right. “Fine. But you better not show those lists to anybody, or talk to anyone on them without me.”

“Don’t worry, Blondie. I won’t let him screw this up,” Ro promised.

“Does that mean we’re leaving?” Sandor asked, holding out his hand.

Sophie stood and fished out her home crystal. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

But when she looked over at Keefe and thought about the roller coaster of complicated conversations they’d just been through, she couldn’t leave quite yet. Not without doing one more thing.

And she didn’t care if it was awkward. Or what anyone might think.

She leaned over, pulling Keefe into the tightest hug possible, and whispered, “Thank you.”

It took him a second to hug her back, and his arms felt a little stiff. But his breath was warm in her ear as he told her, “Anytime, Foster. I’m always here.”

* * *

“Everything okay?” Edaline asked, running over to where Sophie and Sandor had arrived in the Havenfield pastures, and Sophie briefly wondered why her mom was covered in verminion fur—but forgot about it when Edaline added, “Flori told me what’s going on—or everything she knew, anyway.”

“I’ll tell you the rest,” Sandor said, steering Sophie toward the front door.

Sophie locked her knees. “No, you won’t!”

“You and I both know you don’t have the energy to go through the whole conversation again,” Sandor argued. And when Sophie still didn’t relent, he leaned down and whispered, “Don’t fight me on this, and I’ll keep your matchmaking secrets—though you’re going to need to fill her in soon, now that you’ve involved Keefe and the princess.”

“I know,” she whispered back, needing a quick eyelash tug to settle her nerves. “And fine. But I have one question first—then I’ll go to bed.”