Raven knew better now. He’d been too shy to ask questions at fourteen, but he wasn’t shy anymore, and he’d done a lot of reading while away at boarding school. Separated facts from fiction. Now, as his fingers trailed along Jack’s thigh, he asked, “Do you want me to…?”

“Yes.” Jack’s voice was as soft as a leaf touching down in the dirt. Raven could barely hear him, and he wanted to hear him.

Desperately, he wanted to. “You don’t have to be so quiet,” Raven teased. “My dad can’t hear us through the vents out here.”

“The vents.” Jack sat up so suddenly, Raven gasped at the loss of him. “Belle mentioned the vents when I was at the detention center.”

“She did?” Raven furrowed his brow. He had not planned on having this conversation. He hadn’t planned on having any conversation, unless he was asking what Jack wanted and what Jack liked. “What did she say?”

“She used to hear your parents arguing in their room.” Jack reached out absently, pulling on the green collared shirt. “She used to put a pillow over your vent, to muffle the sounds of you—”

“That was a long time ago,” Raven said, following Jack’s lead. Moment by moment, piece by piece, their clothing returned to their bodies. This time, Raven’s shirt felt too tight, and his jeans didn’t fit the way they had before. It was impossible to be undressed with Jack and ever want to wear clothing again.

But the time for undressing each other had passed. Raven could sense it as Jack pulled him to his feet. Together, they ducked out of their fort, emerging beneath twinkling branches. The lights shone brighter now that the night had gone dark, and Raven wanted to stay in the orchard forever. “We don’t have to muffle the vents if we stay out here.”

“This isn’t about us,” Jack said, leading Raven toward the house. “Evelyn had a home video of your mom teaching you to swim. You were little and she was trying to get you to join her in the pool. She said she couldn’t do it without you.”

“She said that?” Raven’s breathing quickened. Blood rushed through his ears, blocking out the memory of his mother’s voice. “Show me.”

Jack nodded, jogging up the porch steps. He was still holding Raven’s hand, but Raven could hardly feel it as they stepped into the pitch-black house. Their footsteps creaked on the hardwood. Shadows twisted, making his pulse spike. When Jack pushed open the doors to the living room, Raven held his breath, expecting his father to be sitting there. Ever since Evelyn’s death, Dr. Holloway had planted himself in the living room, surrounded by photographs. Memories. Ghosts.

The room was empty.