Watching him, she felt her breath catch in her throat. He was here, alive and looking very much as he had the first time she ever saw him. Thickly muscled arms that hinted at days performing hard labor, skin reddened from spending so long in the sun, and that leather jacket that seemed to fit him like a second skin. Warmth spread through her chest and climbed her neck. It took every bit of willpower she had to keep herself from reaching out for him.

Ash grunted as he wriggled through the small space, not once looking her way. Once he’d pulled himself all the way through, he hesitated, still crouched on the sill just below the window and staring down at the black water below. Dorothy took a deep breath. This was it. She needed to announce her presence, say something.

But, when she opened her mouth, she found that she couldn’t quite find her voice. It was funny, she’d spoken to Ash only a few days ago, and yet it felt like she hadn’t seen him in years.

And now here he was, close enough that she could reach out and touch his shoulder, and she found that she couldn’t utter a single word.

A moment later, Ash jumped, spraying the dock where she stood with dirty black water.

Dorothy shook her head, cursing herself. This was Ash, after all. And, according to Chandra, she’d already spoken to him. What had her so nervous? She moved away from the shadows and came to stand at the edge of the dock, waiting for him.

Ash surfaced a moment later, spitting up a mouthful of water. It took him a moment to wipe the water from his eyes, and then he was blinking up at her, frowning slightly.

“You got out here quick,” he said, grasping the edge of the dock to pull himself up.

Dorothy’s throat felt suddenly dry.

Ash crawled onto the dock and pushed the wet hair back from his forehead. “Did you change your mind?” he asked.

The question caught her off guard, and Dorothy found herself blinking at him, confused. She searched her memory, trying to remember what they’d been talking about the night of the ball, but she came up blank.

“Change my mind?” she managed.

Ash took a step closer to her, water dripping from his hair, his jacket. He still smelled like smoke, even soaking wet, and she could just make out the gold of his eyes in the darkness.

She couldn’t help herself. She lifted a hand to his face, pressed her fingers to his cheek. His skin was wet and rough with stubble. He leaned into her touch, then covered her hand with his own.

“About coming with me?” he said, voice low.