And finally I can cry. Because I know I’m still alive.

“Hey.” The word is whispered. Soft. Like the brush of leaves against limbs. But it still makes me jump. When I turn to look over my shoulder, Cole is leaning against the trunk of the tree. Watching me. He’s almost hidden in the shadows.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. It sounds a little like an accusation, but Cole smiles.

“This is my hiding place,” he tells me. “You found me this time.”

Maybe I should feel ashamed. Embarrassed that he caught me. Crying like this. But I’m not. All I feel is relieved that something drew me here. To Cole’s hidden sanctuary.

Something drew me to him.

Just like it drew him to me that night on the beach. In the fog.

When he comes to sit beside me on the branch, it doesn’t even move under our weight. That’s how big it is. How solid. “What happened?” he asks me. “Tonight at rehearsal?”

“I don’t know,” I tell him. Because I’m too tired to pretend. “It was like I got lost. Inside my mind. Or my memory. Or whatever.”

I wish I’d chosen other words, because I hear the echo of what Willa said earlier. About my mother being pursued by something inside her own head.

Cole nods, like he knows exactly what I mean. “Sometimes I remember things that didn’t happen. Couldn’t have happened. You know? Or I’ll go to do something, and I’ll know that I’ve done it before.”

He takes my hand and turns it palm up. He looks at the mark the fire left there. It’s red. Blistered. Just a little kiss from the flame.

He runs a hand over the blister, and I suck in air between my teeth. “Fuck,” I say. And I flinch. But it feels good to be touched.

It even feels good to hurt.

“Feel that?” he asks, and I nod. Tears sting my eyes.

“Yeah. I feel it.”

He slips his arms around me and pulls me against his chest. “Whatever’s happening to you, tell me. I’ll understand. I promise.” He tilts my chin up toward his face. “And I’ll help if you’ll let me.”

“How?”

“When you feel that tug, that pull toward the sea, I can pull back. In the other direction. I can refuse to let you get close to the edge.” He pauses. “And you can do the same for me.” He drops his voice to a husky whisper. I feel the reverberation of it under his ribs. “And if we do that, maybe we can save each other.”

I’m watching the shifting patterns on the ground in front of me. Moonlight filters through the leaves. A gust of wind shakes the branches, and the tree is suddenly alive. Everything is in motion. Blowing in the wind.