“You there?” he asks.

“Yeah. Hey,” I say, after a beat.

“Hey.”

The clouds are turning a darker gray more quickly than I expected. Soft droplets of rain pat against my windshield. It’s going to get humid quickly. And my car doesn’t have AC. Great.

Who should speak first? Should it be me?

He did reach out first. He made the first move by calling. The ball’s technically in my court.

Screw it.

“Look, I’m—”

“I’m—”

We both speak at the same time, then we both fall quiet at the same time too.

“You go first,” he says.

“No, you,” I suggest. “When I lead a conversation, it tends to go off the rails.”

A soft chuckle comes out of Blake’s mouth. Finally, after seconds passing, he speaks.

“Can you come over? Just for a little bit? I want to apologize.”

I pull my phone away from my face to check the time—4:15. Mom and Dad will be home around 6:00. It’ll take twenty minutes to get to Blake’s. I can stay for an hour, and then head home. Make up some excuse about how I was studying or hanging out with Isobel, who’ll cover for—

Shit. Isobel.

I promised I’d hang with her today. We’ve barely hung out at all since I got back from the hospital, except for the time we went to visit Blake’s house, and that could barely be classified as a hangout session. I promised her, and knowing Izzy, she probably has a whole evening planned.

But this is more important. I’d be a fool to think, even for a moment, that I could just let the world of time travel and all its possibilities slip through my fingers.

“Andre?” Blake asks again.

“Heading your way now.”

I hang up without another word and send a quick text to Izzy, then throw my phone onto the seat next to me. As I drive, it vibrates, and I know exactly what her reply is going to say.

Fourteen

When I arrive at Blake’s house and let him know I’m there, he sends a text back before I can get out of the car.

Door’s open. Come on up the stairs. First door on the right.

“Not ominous at all,” I mutter. Sure enough, the door is unlocked, and the house looks exactly how it did four days ago. Everything perfectly in its place. Devoid of any sort of real warmth. More like a mausoleum than a house.

I take the steps two at a time and follow Blake’s instructions. Sure enough, he’s sitting there in his room, and music is playing from his stereo.

“Cardinal Planes?” I ask, pointing to the system.

He nods, looking down at a photo that he’s holding in his hand. I can’t make out what’s inside the wooden frame, but I can guess.