I glance around the deserted store, which is similar to every other vacant store in the city. “I guess so … but I think it might be better if we go up higher. Like maybe the roof.”

“No.” He bangs around in the bottom cupboards, knocking around pots and pans. “The vampires might not go looking for us up there, but they will.”

“They as in the ones without the heart beat,” I say. “The ones like me.”

“They’re not like you.” He snaps a cupboard shut. “Your heart will beat again. I know it will.”

I squat down beside him. “What are they like? These half-vampire, half-human’s? Do they have a name? Do they drink blood? What makes them so frightening?”

“They’re killers, Kayla. That’s all that’s important.” He stares at a can, his eyes burning intensely. “They’ve killed some of The Gathering members before.” His heart knocks against his chest and his hands shake, upset.

“Did they kill someone you know?” I soften my voice.

He blinks the pain away and stands, moving to a row of drawers.

I stand, setting my knife on the counter. “What are you looking for?”

His eyes light up as his hand reaches inside an open drawer. “For these.” He holds up a box of matches and shakes them.

“Are you planning on starting a fire? Because the streets have plenty of them I’m sure you could borrow.”

He shakes his head and puts the matches into his pocket. “No, I’m going to cook us dinner,” he says, already heading into the other room.

Picking up my knife, I follow him, taking my time, deciding how long I’m going to let this secret keep going on. Aiden is setting up a few chairs, like we’re formally dining. Then he heats up two cans of food over a small flame in the middle of the floor where he builds a small fire. When he’s done, he hands me a can and starts eating out of the other, scooping the food out with his hands.

“So how long until you forgive me?” he asks and scoops out a bite of food.

I take a small bite of my food, which tastes more awful than anything I’ve ever tasted.  “Forgive you for what?”

He chews on his food. “For lying to you.”

“I already have.” I smile, a big plastic smile, just like I used to do all the time.

He sets his can on the floor.  “No, you haven’t.” He scoots closer and looks me in the eye. “I really am sorry, Juniper.”

God, I wish he’d stop calling me that. Something about the way he says it sparkles in my mind and makes it hard to stay angry. I gently rub my finger across where his scar used to be. “I’m sorry I made it go away. I know it meant a lot to you.”