When he walked back into my life, I wanted him to be this perfect version of himself, an image I’d made up in my head. It was an impossible image, of course, because I created it from childhood memories, from the people we were when we were innocent and small. But we’re not children anymore. We’re not innocent, we’ve both done things we regret, and because of it all, Asher is a complete mystery to me. He’s a mystery, and I hate it.

Even still, I want to trust him again. Even after everything. Because I can’t deny that his time with Bain and Cree seems like the exception. Everything he’s shown me since then falls in line with the Asher I knew—a boy who was kind and considerate. A boy who put others before himself, who never lost faith, who took risks but never with bad intentions.

I want to be willing to confide in him as I did when we were kids, to know exactly what he’s thinking before he says a word. I want all that, and after our time together in the mountains and crossing Burning Ground, a part of me thinks it may actually be possible.

My stomach churns, and this time I have enough sense to know it’s got nothing to do with the food I ate earlier. I felt this same giddy unease the very first time Flint touched my arm in Dead River and asked if I wanted to go for a walk after he unloaded his rickshaw. This feeling leads to nothing good. I turn back to the sulfur and don’t look at Asher for the rest of the day.

When my shadow has stretched long and the sun nearly skims the horizon, the workers at our hot pool call it quits.

“You almost done? I’ll walk in with you.” I look up to find Asher waiting at the edge of my boardwalk. “Your nose got sunburned,” he adds, pointing.

I’m amazed there’s anything left on me that wasn’t burned already. “You go ahead,” I hear myself saying.

“With Saph?” He almost sounds disappointed. She’s lingering a bit farther back on the boardwalk, smoothing the short hairs at the back of her neck.

“Yeah. I’m going to finish filling this jar and then I’ll head in with Cleo.”

“Okay.” He frowns, but turns around and jogs off.

When I glance toward Cleo, she’s rolling her eyes. “I’ve got no pity for idiots who say one thing when they mean another.”

“I can’t be with anyone,” I insist. “And I’m not sure I fully trust him.”