That’s been his answer for the last thirty minutes, and I’m not entirely convinced we’re not lost. Because I can’t figure out what we could possibly be walking toward out here in the middle of the woods. As far as I can tell, we’re not walking toward the lake. The river is behind us, and up ahead is … just trees. And falling darkness. And sure, I like the outdoors more than I used to—especially when it’s with Aiden—but I’m still not looking to just wander around in the forest, admiring the trees. Maybe he had a really awesome date planned, but changed it after I made him fix walls at my house and suffer through a dinner with my mom peppering him with questions. Bring a boy home, and suddenly my mom wants to be a mom.

“Almost there,” he says.

I’d love to know how he can tell, because the patch of trees we’re in now looks just like the patch of trees five minutes ago. And like the first patch, when we stepped out of his car and into the woods. I keep looking for some hidden trail—ribbons tied to trees, or breadcrumbs, or something, but for all I can tell we’re just wandering in the dark. I’m half expecting us to emerge from the woods in the exact same spot where we entered. But also, Aiden is holding my hand, and for as long as we’re walking, that won’t stop. Out here in the dark, surrounded by silence, I’m not thinking about anything but the way this feels. And the little flower of hope blooming in my chest—the one filled with images of the two of us kissing in the woods, under the stars—it reminds me of the old Olivia. The way I hoped—every minute of the day—that a moment with Zander would go differently. Until it finally did. Did I wish that into existence? Make it happen just on sheer hope? What are the chances of doing it twice?

I shake the thought away as I look up at the stars, set against the dark sky like a spray of paint.

“Finally,” Aiden mutters, and I want to agree.

There’s a break in the trees, and the path begins to thin out. The crunching of our feet quiets as we move from the cover of the trees to an open clearing of rutted dirt and grass. A wall of old brick rises up in front of us. It’s the shell of a building, one long wall that turns into another, and a gaping hole where a door used to be. There’s no roof, no windows, just the partial remains of four walls.

“Uh … why are we here?”

“I want to show you something,” Aiden says.

“I really hope that’s not a euphemism.”

He laughs. “Close your eyes.”

“Oh god, seriously?”