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We stroll along the path beside the creek, away from the bonfire and the music. I sip my cocoa, lost in the tales of Ravenslight.

“Did you learn all those stories in school?” I ask as the crowd starts to thin the farther we venture.

“Some. A lot get passed down within families. The Valzeras moved here a long time ago.”

“Were they around for the deal with the ‘dark ones’?”

He doesn’t answer until I look over. “Everybody’s family was around for it.”

The night is glorious, clear with a biting chill that makes me feel alive. Eventually, we wind our way back to Main Street and down the alley behind the cafe. It’s deserted, with everyone at the festival. The music from the park comes in pieces. Neither of us is walking very fast by the time we reach the stairs to my apartment.

On the bottom step, I’m as tall as he is, and we face each other under the puddle of a streetlight.

Looking at him is a tactical error.

A halo around his dark hair. His eyes downcast so his lashes rest on his cheeks. All these weeks later, and he still knocks me flat.

He’s got a whole speech loaded, and I can see him searching for an opening in the way he studies the ground. So I get in first.

“I had a really nice time. Thanks for hanging out.” I hold my beaver plushie between us like a shield.

He sways closer, and I hate how much I like the way he smells.

“Me too.” Quiet, and he closes it by another degree. He reaches for my beanie with both hands and eases it down over my ears. He doesn’t let go. “Ellery, I’m…”

I wait. Both of us frozen in orbit.

His hands come away, then the rest of him adds more distance, and my body follows before I catch it.

His phone rings, and my brain comes back online. It rings twice more before he answers it.

“What? Fine. Okay. I’ll be there in five.” He hangs up. “Luca needs help packing up the booth.”

“Oh, I can come if⁠—”

“You should get some sleep.” He nods up at my apartment. “You’re already home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Right.”

I make it up the stairs and inside, and press my back to the door in the dark. My fingertips find my lips.

Was he going to kiss me? Or did I want it badly enough to invent it?

I scream into Mr. Beaver’s fluffy stomach.

When I come up for air, I have two facts: I hate him and I wanted that kiss.

Chapter 22

Nick

What the hell was I thinking?

Tonight, I was going to apologize, and she told me not to. Then, I had both hands on her. Wool and her warmth underneath, and my knuckles sitting a quarter inch from her pulse if I moved them any farther. I wanted to bring her close, test her softness, stay there until sunrise. When I finally found some sense, I pulled away, and she came with me until she caught herself.

I stare into my dresser mirror and press the heels of my hands into my eyes.

One woman. Look at the state of you.