Clearing my throat, I run a hand over my sweaty hair and look around. “I guess curiosity just got the best of me, you know?” I can’t help but notice how he tenses the faintest bit, as if bracing himself. “I’ve been traveling all summer, and I just...well, I guess I wanted to see if it was like I remember.”

Something seems to soften in Mason then. Almost like relief, but that doesn’t seem right. “Makes sense.”

More like a load of shit.

I haven’t had any ties to Shiloh since my parents upped and moved us back to the city after my grandma’s death ten years ago. Sure, Mason was my friend—one of the few I made during that brief time we lived here—but in the wide, seemingly never-ending landscape of youth, what’s one passing childhood friendship out of dozens?

As if to further call me on said bullshit, that snippet of conversation I overheard inside rushes to the forefront of my mind.

“McAllister boy.”

My pulse races.

I really, really shouldn’t be here.

“You stickin’ around?” Mason asks abruptly, yanking me out of my thoughts.

Giving my head a little shake, I go to tell him no, only for my mouth to take the reins before my brain can catch up. “Yes.”

His eyes brighten before creasing into another frown as I quickly backtrack.

“I mean,” I grumble, “no. I shouldn’t. I—” A ragged sigh escapes me. “I’m supposed to go home this weekend. I...” Trailing off, I seal my mouth in a hard line.

He studies me more closely now, wariness and something else—something almost like concern—replacing the earlier flash of surprise. It’s a long beat before he says quietly, slowly, “You don’t want to go back.”

Not a question.

I stare back at him for one heart-pounding beat, before slowly shaking my head. “No,” I finally allow myself to admit out loud. “I don’t want to go back there.”

Not back to college where Zayne’s ghost haunts the campus.

Not back to my parents who don’t seem to know what to do with me.

Not to the city where the memories of who I was cling to every nook and cranny, reminding me of what I lost.

“I don’t want to go back,” I reiterate my earlier statement.

A knowing sort of glint hardens Mason’s gaze. “Then don’t.”

I laugh, and I hate that it’s this shaky, almost nervous sound. “Just like that?”

A shrug before his attention drifts momentarily somewhere over my shoulder. “Why not?”

I blink.

Easy. He makes it sound so easy, when it’s anything but.

“I don’t even know where I’d stay,” I hedge.