"Hey, Leni," Nate whispers, his voice gentle as a bedtime story. "If we go down, at least we'll go down together."

He gives me that special smile that crinkles his eyes at the corners, the one that makes my insides feel warm and gooey like fresh-baked cookies. The carnival lights dance in his eyes like captured stars, and suddenly being up high doesn't feel quite so scary. My heart's still racing, but now it's more like Christmas morning excitement.

Without thinking, my hand finds his, my smaller fingers wrapping around his bigger ones. That's when I notice it—the purple-blue bruise across his knuckles. I touch it gently, feeling him tense, but he doesn't pull away.

"What happened?" I whisper.

Nate shrugs, looking away. "Nothing."

I don't believe him, but I focus instead on how safe his hand feels in mine.

"You ready?" he asks.

"To die?" I joke weakly.

Nate laughs softly, squeezing my hand.

A happy bubble grows in my chest as we reach the very top. The wind plays with my hair, and I'm not so scared anymore, not with Nate holding my hand like it's the most important job in the world.

"I got you, okay?" he says again, the words feeling like a pinky promise—the most serious kind there is.

I look at him, and suddenly everything clicks into place. He's not just my friend or my brother's best friend. He's something bigger, something that makes my heart feel too full, like a balloon about to burst.

Right here, at the top of the world with the stars sprinkled above us like magic dust, I realize something huge: I think I love Nate Sullivan.

21. Seeing Ghosts

CHAPTER 21

SEEING GHOSTS

NORA

PRESENT DAY

He remembers. The realization makes my heart skip like a record needle catching on vinyl. I glance down at the beaded bracelet hugging my wrist. He always throws me off balance, seeing right through the walls I've carefully constructed. The air feels charged with possibility, electric like the atmosphere before a summer storm. Each bead under my thumb brings back summers I've tried to box up and label "do not open" in my memory.

My stomach twists as I look up at the Ferris wheel, its lights spinning constellations against the ink-black sky. Heights have never been my thing, and they're not about to start being my thing tonight. But Nate catches the flicker of hesitation in my eyes—reading me like a book he's memorized cover to cover.

"Are we doing this?" he asks, his voice deceptively casual, as if he's talking about what movie to watch, not about catapulting us into the waiting arms of the sky.

I muster a grin that feels plastic on my face. "Uh... yeah. We are." My voice pitches too high, betraying me.

"Sure?" He arches an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his face. "Are you still afraid of heights?"