“You are.” I try to mask the annoyance in my voice. If he only realized that, we wouldn’t be here in the first place. Why can’t he realize that?

He turns around to hop out the window, but I pull his shoulder back. I nudge him out of the way, dropping my bag outside next to his. He looks at me, confused, as I walk to the bedroom door.

“Don’t you think it would be a little suspicious if we jumped out of my bedroom window? We probably only have a few more minutes before they come open the door anyway.”

“You’re going to tell them you’re leaving?”

“I won’t tell them what we’re really doing, but I’ll say you’re staying with Frankie for a few nights and I’m taking you to get settled.”

“Get me settled?” He winces. “Like I’m a little kid.”

“Ridley.” I squeeze his hand. “I have to tell them something.” And also, I’m kind of hoping I can convince him that Frankie is our best bet anyway, so it’s not really a lie.

“Okay,” he says, squeezing my hand back. “Okay.”

CHAPTER FORTY

Ridley

IT WAS EASIER getting past her parents than I thought it would be, and somehow, even walking down this cold, dark street with the weight of both of our bags on my shoulder, I feel lighter than I ever have. I don’t have to be a liar anymore; I don’t have to pretend to be anything I’m not; I can just be a boy holding the hand of the person he loves and leaving everything else behind.

I look over at Peak, and she smiles, pushing some of her hair back and tucking it behind her ear. We’ve been walking in silence for a half hour, but if she’s scared, she’s not showing it. If I was one-tenth as brave as her, maybe—

“Where to?” she asks, her voice gentle, quieting all the noise in my head. Peak’s magic like that.

“Just up here. I need to borrow something from my sister.” Something flickers in her eyes, confusion maybe, or possibly relief, but I don’t want to think about that too long.

“Oh, good idea. I was going to say we should go to Frankie’s for real, but your sister’s is probably a better idea. Maybe she can help us figure it out.”

I scrunch my eyebrows, shifting the bags up higher on my shoulder without letting go of her hand. Suddenly this seems so much more tenuous than I thought. If she thinks we’re staying here, in town, that would explain why she’s not freaking. Should I rip that Band-Aid off, or?

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