The next night, I don’t remember a lot about trivia night. But I do remember my brilliant idea. The moon is now high in the dark sky, thankfully only a crescent that illuminates without making it so bright that any nosy people can see what I’m up to as I sneak into the trailer park. I park almost a half-mile away behind a dumpster and walk the rest of the way too, just to make sure no one can hear my car or see the headlights as I drive in.

Under the cover of darkness, I duck down next to Zoey’s trailer when I see light flashing in the living room. That must be Jacob playing video games. I pull my phone out to text him, hissing when the light of the screen blinds me. I lower it down and look around frantically but sense no movement.

Me: You up?

The lights keep flashing, glowing a blue-tinted white as I hold my breath and wait impatiently. “No! You bush camping motherfucker!”

I text him again.

Me: Open the door.

This time, there’s movement, and a few seconds later, the screen door opens slowly, letting out a creak that could wake the dead.

“Blake?” Jacob whispers.

“Shh!” I hiss, coming up the steps and pushing my way inside. “Shut the door!” I order, and though he raises his brows at me for the barked command, he does it.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. “Aren’t you and Zo supposed to be staying apart until after court?”

“Yeah, but . . .” I can’t explain it—especially not to him, since I barely understand it myself. “I need to see her.”

Jacob looks over his shoulder toward Zoey’s bedroom. “You know this is against everything she believes. You’re asking for the bad luck gods to strike you down with lightning.”

“I’m not her grandfather,” I tell him gently, knowing he lost the man too.

He smirks, but there’s a haunted look in his eyes he’s trying to cover. “That was a test to see how much she’s told you. See if you know her history.”

“I do. Just as importantly, I’d like to think I know her future. If you’ll let me by and she doesn’t freak out. I brought a coaster so she can touch wood for luck.”

I reach in my back pocket and hold up one of the new coasters I bought for my living room to show him.

“You brought a coaster?” he says, trying to be quiet while he laughs. It’s not working.

“Shh! Yeah, I brought a coaster. That’s not weird. It helps Zo’s nerves if she can touch wood.”

“Oh, I bet. On that note,” he says, grabbing his phone from the coffee table, “I’m going to Angelo’s to spend the night.”

“Thanks, man.” I offer a hand, which he shakes firmly.