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My stomach curdled at the direction the story was headed.

“As soon as we walked in,” he said, “I put my phone and wallet on the bedside table, then went to the loo.”

“That’s when she dialed me.”

“My phone was under my wallet, so I didn’t see what she’d done. And then …” He shoved a hand through his sweaty hair. “I dunno, Aura, things happened. I’d be a coward if I blamed her, and I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t want it.”

“What things happened?” I choked out. “Did you—”

“No. It never went that far.”

My gut unclenched a fraction. “If Megan hadn’t interrupted you … what would you have done?”

His eyes shut hard. “I can’t say. All I can say is that what was going through my mind wasn’t pure lust. It was a great lot of that, but also fear and doubt and guilt, and I kept thinking, ‘This isn’t happening, not with her.’”

“What about after you found out I was listening?”

“When I realized what Becca had done, I said, ‘Get dressed, we’re leaving.’ First she said she was sorry, and then when I wouldn’t grant instant forgiveness by sleeping with her, she got angry. We haven’t spoken since. I even deleted her number from my phone.”

I scrambled for a way to understand. “You said there was champagne. Were you drunk?”

“I was, but it’s no excuse.” He rubbed the back of his neck and stared at my feet. “I fucked up, Aura. I’m sorry.”

My anger faded in the face of his full story—not to mention his lack of weaseling. I was ready to step off my own cliff of guilt. “I almost did it with Dylan.”

Zachary raised his eyebrows. “Prom night?”

“No, a couple days later at his house.”

“What stopped you?”

Zachary had been honest, so I owed him the same. “It felt like we weren’t looking for each other. We were looking for Logan.”

“It always comes back to him, doesn’t it?” He gestured to my Keeley Brothers shirt, and I wished I’d replaced it with one of ex-Fred’s. “He’ll always be in your head.”

“I’ll never forget Logan as long as I live. But there’s only one
person in my head.” I spoke clearly, though fear lumped in my throat. “Zach, I don’t understand you and me. I don’t know if we’re a miracle or a disaster. I just know I want to be with you.”

Zachary stared at me for less than a heartbeat. Then with one long stride, he was in front of me, grasping my shoulders. He pressed his forehead to mine as his words poured out. “Aura, I never wanted anything else. And when I thought we couldn’t be together, not without maybe killing ourselves or ruining the world, I tried to lose myself in whatever I thought could make me forget. Schoolwork, soccer, even Becca. But nothing worked.” His warm whisper brushed my cheek. “I can’t forget you, any more than I can forget my own name.”

He kissed me then, and the world, which no longer mattered, completely fell away.

W
e walked for almost half a mile along the river before we found a place that was deep enough to swim, yet sheltered by the overhanging trees. The river glowed a faint silver, the moonlight veiled by summer haze.

Zachary switched off the lantern and hid it under a bush, along with the bag I’d packed. Then he laid our towels on the riverbank. “I’ll turn away while you undress and get in the water.”

I shifted my feet. “We’re not going to, uh—I mean, I don’t have anything, like, protection-wise. Do you?”

“No, but maybe it’s for the best. This wasn’t how I imagined our first time, on the lam from federal agents and assaulted by a thousand mosquitoes.”

“How did you imagine it?”

Zachary came to stand close in front of me. “You know that castle I showed you in the guidebook to Ireland?”

“Near Newgrange?”

“I’ve been to their website, seen photos of the rooms. There’s a suite on the top floor where you can see the whole Boyne Valley from the balcony. It faces west, away from Dublin, so the light pollution doesn’t fade the sky.” He reached out and caressed my hair. “In my imagination, we drink brandy and watch the stars, until it gets too cold.”

“And then what?”

“And then we go inside.” His fingertips trickled over the curve of my shoulder. “You put on something a little less … well, a little less.”

“And then what?”

“And then we meet in bed, under the thickest, softest quilt.” His touch rounded the angle of my elbow. “I kiss you and touch you all over, and you do the same to me, until we’re both too warm for the quilt, and for whatever we were wearing when we crawled under it.”

I didn’t dare blink. “And then what?”

The tips of his fingers pressed against mine, firm and smooth. “And then … and only then … will you know how much I love you.”

My mouth fell open. “You—what?”

“You wouldn’t be so surprised to hear me say that, if you’d listened to my voice mail.”

“You told me you—you told me you love me, back in—”

“May eleventh, nine-oh-one a.m. Approximately.”

The last six weeks of misery flashed before my eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me again?”

“I thought you knew and didn’t care, and by the time I found out you’d never heard my message, I thought I’d lost you to Logan again. And I thought I deserved it.”

I slipped my hand into his. “That’s all in the past. I want to look forward now.”

“Me too.”

“But I don’t like your castle vision.”

His eyebrows pinched together. “Why not?”

“Because if we went to Newgrange, it would be for the winter solstice, right? That’s six whole months from now.”

His mouth relaxed into a smile. “Are you in a hurry?”

“Yes.”

“Me too.” He kissed me, hard and hungry. I kissed him back, harder and hungrier. As we filled our hands with each other’s hair, I swore I could feel the earth rotate beneath our feet.

I gathered the strength to push him away, only because I wanted to continue with no clothes between us.

“Go on, hurry,” he said, his breathing ragged. “I’ll turn round.”

“No.” I caught his wrist before I could lose my nerve. “Don’t turn around.” I took a step back, almost to the water’s edge, and slipped off my shoes. “I won’t look away if you won’t.”

I tried to hold his astonished gaze while I undressed, but because I was sweaty, a couple things got stuck, like my socks, so all in all my stripping for Zachary was sort of lame.

Not that I could tell by the look on his face.

“Your turn,” I said when I stood naked in front of him, resisting the urge to cross my arms or legs.

He discarded his embarrassment as fast as he discarded his clothes.

God, he was perfect.

So perfect he even remembered to wrap our clothes in the towels and hide them away. That, more than anything, told me that we would be okay. We’d always have each other’s backs.

We held hands, fingers locked, as we walked into the water together.

The shock of cold stopped me after three steps. I covered my mouth to stifle a whimper.

Zachary looked back at me. “I said I’d keep you warm.”

“Then why am I cold?” I said with a laugh.

“Because we’re not there yet.” He stepped closer to me. “Want me to carry you again?”

“No.”

“Good, because I’d have to drop you sooner or later. You wouldn’t like tha’.”

“Let’s go.” I surged forward, the chill stealing my breath as it covered my legs and hips. Every nerve felt alive, down to my fingers, toes, and eyelashes.

We walked out as far as we could while staying hidden under the overhanging tree. Here the water came to my chest and his stomach.

“We forgot soap,” Zachary said as we stopped and faced each other. “Shall I run back and get some?”

“Would you?” With a nervous laugh, I pulled my hair back. “Some shampoo and conditioner would be great, too.”

“Straightaway. But first.” He put his hands on my waist. “Do you trust me?”

“I trust you.”

His eyes searched mine, then his lips parted, as if he wanted to say—or ask—something terribly important.

“I love you,” I added, in case he wondered.

He sighed, then pulled me close, skin to skin. “Then go all the way with me.”

“What? Wait—”

“Under the water.” The corner of his mouth twitched up. “What did you think I meant?”

I laughed, then wrapped my arms around him, pressed my lips together, and squeezed my eyes shut to keep my contacts in.

“Hold on,” he said. “And remember, don’t drink it.”

He took us down, and the water washed over my scalp in the coldest wave of all. I shuddered, but he just held me tighter.

With the rest of the world’s sounds blotted out, the river seemed to be whispering to me, telling its million-year-old secrets. As my hair floated up, I felt weightless and free. I wished I never had to breathe air again.

Zachary brought us back to the surface, where the hazy moonlight suddenly seemed bright. He shook his head, and water dripped off his nose and eyelashes. I ran my hands through his thick, wet hair, letting it fall over his forehead.

The thought of his Sunday departure carved a hole inside that felt bigger than the rest of me. “Don’t go home.”

His eyes turned sad. “I haven’t got a choice. If I did, I’d stay here.” He cupped my jaw in one steady hand. “Until I could take you with me.”

We kissed, full and deep. I clung to him, the cold water the only thing keeping my heart from exploding from the heat inside.

He broke away suddenly. “Did you hear that?”

With one arm around his neck, I rubbed the water from my ears to listen to the distant sound.

An engine.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered.

I wanted to scream. The universe hated us.

We swam to the darkest spot we could find, under a fallen tree that reached out over the river. By the time we got there, where the water was only a few feet deep, we could see bright lights in the direction of ex-Fred’s house.

“They’ll know we were there,” I whispered, crouching down in the water. “That grave is freshly dug.”

“They’ll know someone was there, not necessarily us.” Zachary tugged me back against his chest, so that we drifted farther under the tree.

“Maybe they’ll think we kept going. Why would we come back to the river instead of heading for the road right away?”

“That’s a good question. Why did we?”

“Tell me you’re joking.”

“I am absolutely joking.” He wrapped both arms around me, his light coating of stubble tickling my ear. “Does this remind you of anything?”

My obstinate mind flashed to the October afternoon eight days before Logan died. He’d held me like this, my bare back against his chest, after our aborted attempt at lovemaking. He’d whispered that he wasn’t disappointed, that he understood, and that everything was going to be fine. Which of course it wasn’t. I’d stared at my bedroom
wall and wondered if I was about to lose him. Which of course I was.

“On the ship,” Zachary prompted. “The other time we were pursued by DMP agents?”

I relaxed against him, relieved to think of better memories. “When we first kissed.”

“But this is better.”

I closed my eyes, letting myself live in the present. “Because we’re naked?”

“Aye, that, too.” He pressed his lips to my neck, grazing it with his teeth. I arched back against him, making him groan. “Careful,” he said. “You don’t want to do that.”

“Don’t tell me what I want.” I reached behind me, trying not to fumble. “I know exactly.”

I was pretty sure that every word Zachary whispered after “Ah …” was not in English.

Finally his hushed cries faded to a breathless silence.

“Check it out,” I said. “The world completely failed to end.”

He gave a soft laugh against the back of my shoulder. “Just you wait, lassie. Just you wait.”

I waited, utterly still, while the DMP searchlights swept the forest, and while their ATVs crushed the night’s natural silence. Though my limbs stiffened with cold, inside I felt warmer than ever.

Because I was good at waiting.

The invading noises retreated, heading north, away from us and the town we planned to reach. Five minutes after the last engine sound, we headed for shore.

While I dried myself, Zachary took the biggest towel and spread
it on the ground. Then he looked up at me and tugged the edge of the towel. I took the hint and lay down, watching him watching me.

He knelt and slowly ran his hand down my arm, his lids heavy and his lips parted. “Aura … where can I touch you?”

“Anywhere.”

His hand left my arm and drifted to the rise of my hip bone. “And where can I kiss you?”

I took a deep breath, long past ready for the future. “Everywhere.”

I
t was only the mosquitoes that made us get dressed. Eventually. Zachary kept watch while I slept for a few hours, my head in his lap. I made him promise to trade off so he could sleep, too, but he conveniently “forgot” to wake me until it was time to go.

We headed northeast, not daring to stop at the house again, in case the DMP was waiting for us. I was glad I’d already packed for our departure before we went to the river.

When the trees thinned so we could see the stars, we realized that we’d gone too far west and needed to change course. Zachary began to favor his hurt ankle, though probably not as much as he wanted to. So it was well past dawn by the time we reached the two-lane road curving through the mountains.

Trudging along the shoulder, I noticed Zachary had grown quiet, occasionally muttering numbers to himself. Every few minutes he
would take his hand out of mine and scribble something on a scrap of paper. Peeking over his shoulder, I figured out he was trying to remember a phone number, so I didn’t interrupt.

Four hours after we found the road, it led us to a rickety general store with an off-brand gas station and a sign that read
BORIS’S PIZZA
.

The sight of the word “pizza” made my stomach growl. We hurried through the front door, jangling the cowbell attached to the handle.

The young man dozing with his feet on the counter jerked awake. Something thudded on the floor next to him.