“It’s too late,” I yelled against Lock’s chest. “They know. Everyone knows.”
Lock ducked his head against mine and spoke softly, but miraculously I could hear. “They will never know it all. No one will ever know. I will make sure of that.”
I felt a stirring in my chest as he held me tighter, pulling us through the fray with a strength and daring I thought he would never show to anyone but me. My most feared predictions played out in front of us, and most of me wanted to push him away, to scream at him for doing this to my brothers and me, for bringing the police and attracting the press. But then we were through the throng, and still he shielded me with his body just long enough to look down and meet my eyes before we walked across the open space between the police tape and my front door.
“Say the word and we’ll be eating Mrs. Hudson’s sandwiches on our way to Venice.” He quirked a smile and stole a quick kiss when I lifted the side of my mouth as well—the closest I could get to any kind of smile on that night.
And there it was, like a light—like the flash as a candlewick takes a flame. I saw the path of my life stretch out before me. Past the humiliation, past the chaos I would endure, past all of that, Sherlock Holmes was still at my side. And there, sheltered in his arms, I made two startling realizations. I knew that I would probably love this boy for the rest of my life. I knew also that I would never, ever forgive him.
Acknowledgments
First, thank you so much to my agent, Laurie McLean, who managed to do in mere days what no one else could do in years. You are the ultimate rock star, and I feel lucky to have you as my partner, advocate, and friend.
Thank you to my super-genius editor, Christian Trimmer, who believed in my fledgling manuscript enough to help me turn it into an actual book. I am so very proud to be a member of #TeamTrimmer. And special thanks to all the brilliant people at Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers, who championed my book and helped release it into the world.
An extra-special, Red Hots–flavored THANK-YOU to my Writeapalooza Girls: Julie Dillard, Tracy Clark, Temoca Dixon, Dawn Callahan, and Kim Harnes, who have spent countless hours listening to me whine and plot and worry, who have fed me ginger-bread, Swedish fish, and Nutella, with plenty of All Business gin on the side, and who never once doubted me. I would be nowhere without you.
Thank you to all the readers who so generously gave their time and insights to this book when it was in its roughest state: Kristen Crowley Held, Chris Woody, Jenny MacKay, Charlene Ellen, Heather Mims, and Lia Keyes. And to the Mentish Group, who let me write with them in haunted hospitals, hotel rooms in Winnemucca, and over Skype when I was too wimpy to face the snow: Craig Lew, Sarah McGuire, Hazel Mitchell, Amy Allgeyer Cook, Jacqueline Garlick, and Nathalie Mvondo (with special guest George the Ghost).
I have also been lucky enough to be surrounded by amazing author mentor/friends to advise and prod me. To Terri Farley, thank you for your A with a hundred pluses and for being the first person to tell me I was a writer. To Susan Palwick, thank you for finding scraps of potential in my writing and going above and beyond to make me pursue it. To Cynthia Cotten, thank you for reading my silly camp journals and helping me to find my voice in YA. To Ellen Hopkins, thank you for advice and wine and friendship and being an amazing example of what it means to be true to yourself and to your art.
And finally, to my family. Thank you just doesn’t seem adequate to cover all that you’ve done for me. But for years of understanding and giving me the time and space to do my work, and for believing in me, even when things got hard and complicated, THANK YOU. To my husband, Tyson, for all your lumberjack calm in the face of my storms. To Gwenyn, for letting me work, even when your more trickstery fairy powers tempted you into my office. To my dad, for countless hours of babysitting and for raising me to believe in the arts. To Norma, my amazing mother-in-law, for listening and tirelessly helping me control the chaos at home. And to my mom: I’m sorry I couldn’t make this happen in time for you to hold an actual book in your hands. I love you and miss you every day.