It’s almost dark when I walk up the sidewalk in front of Aden’s house. It should probably be lighter out, but clouds rolled in this afternoon. It’s spitting rain. Not enough to be satisfying, but enough that the droplets are starting to cling to my hair. I’m glad to step under the small roof covering his front porch and shake off the bit of rain.

There’s no light on above the door, making it look like no one’s home. I know better than that. The house always looks like no one’s home. The grass is always cut, but the front lawn isn’t landscaped. One of the previous owners planted a rose bush at the front of the house. It’s still there, but it’s not the kind of rosebush that someone looks after. There’s a difference between the plants people tolerate and the plants people love.

I ignore the darkness on the porch and knock.

No one answers. There’s no sound from inside, and no lights coming on.

My heartbeat slows a touch and anxiety seeps in. I shake it off. Everything’s okay. I’m just shaken is all. Which is why I need Aden.

I knock again. Firmer this time. My knuckles turn white and the thinned skin over them actually hurts with each hard knock.

This time, there’s quiet movement on the other side of the door. I know to listen for it, and that’s the only reason I can hear. The footsteps don’t sound like footsteps. If it was any windier, I wouldn’t be able to hear them at all. They’re whispers over the floor. The wood gives, but doesn’t creak.

My heart beats faster as he approaches. I run a hand through my hair and take a deep breath.

I can feel him there on the other side of the door. I don’t knock again, although I want to—just a soft sound to let him know that I know he’s there.

I keep my hands at my sides.

The lock on the other side of the door disengages with a quiet scrape. The knob turns. Finally, the door opens to reveal Aden. He’s dressed in jeans and a dark T-shirt, his feet bare and his eyes dark, like he hasn’t slept. He only opens the door wide enough for me to see his face and keep it defensively in front of him.

I know what I’m looking for. I see the small signs of relief in his face. The twitch at his cheek. A softness around his eyes. Those eyes search my face. Aden exhales.

His lips part as if he might speak, but he gives a tiny shake of his head and closes them again.

I lean toward the door—toward him—but I don’t press against it.