“Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to?—”
Zane shakes his head. “Don’t.”
Same word. Same tone.
She smiles at him.
That sharp thing twists again.
I open my mouth to say something,anything, to cut the moment before it lodges under my skin and stays there.
“So,” I say, clapping my hands once, a little too loud. “Who wants air? Because if I stay in this room any longer, I’m going to start narrating my feelings, and nobody wants that.”
Aurora glances at me, then at Zane. There’s a quiet exchange there I pretend not to see.
“I could use some air,” she says.
There it is. My opening.
“Perfect,” I say, already moving. “Roof’s got the best view. Also, the worst railings. Very on brand.”
Zane hesitates. I can feel it. Protective instinct humming as a live wire.
“I’ll bring her back,” I say lightly. “Scout’s honor.”
Zane studies me for a beat, then nods. Trust, but verify.
Aurora follows me up the narrow stairs, the sound of the bar fading behind us. The door creaks when I push it open, and cold night rushes in as if it’s been waiting.
The roof is quiet. Open. The town spread out below us in soft yellow dots and dark stretches of trees. The mountains loom as if they’re minding their business, but absolutely are not.
Aurora steps up to the edge, resting her hands on the railing. The wind tugs at her hair.
“Wow,” she murmurs. “Evie would’ve loved this.”
There it is. Her grandmother again. Always there, as gravity.
“Yeah?” I say. “She sounds like she had good taste.”
“She did,” Aurora says. “In places. In people.” She smiles faintly. “In telling me when I was being an idiot.”
I grin. “A legend.”
I lean beside her, careful to keep it casual. Light. Reclaim the vibe, Reilly. That’s the plan.
“So,” I say. “Feeling better? Or are we still in the emotional hangover phase?”
She snorts. “Still tender. But… lighter. I didn’t realize how tightly I was holding onto that locket until I thought it was gone.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Funny how objects do that. Carry way more than their weight limit.”
She glances at me. “Is that a rare Finn Reilly Insight?”
“Don’t tell anyone,” I say. “I have a reputation.”
She laughs, and the sound loosens my chest. There it is. The easy part. The part I’m good at.
“What about your family?” she asks.
