He pulls his hand from my chest and leaves a cold ache behind, but when I think he’ll back away completely he grazes my cheek with his knuckles as he holds my eyes. “Not until I know you forgive me. Otherwise, this won’t work, and I want it to work.”

Before I can say anything, Lachlan gives me a faint, apologetic smile, then opens the closet door and steps out.

I feel like my mind is disconnected from my body as I follow Lachlan out of the room and down the corridor.

Though Lachlan checks on me over his shoulder, we don’t speak. We slip back into the bar unnoticed, and he pulls his phone from his pocket to text Conor. A moment later, I feel the buzz of a text on my watch and wonder if he included me on a chat, but it’s Sloane’s name that flashes on the screen. I pull out my mobile and open the message.

Thought you should know …

My steps lurch to a halt as I read the headline of the news article she sent.

MURDER INVESTIGATION INTO DISAPPEARANCE OF ASHBORNE COLLEGIATE INSTITUTE HEADMASTER

With an unsteady breath, I click on the link. Dr. Louis Campbell’s face stares back at me. Maybe I should feel remorse. A normal person would. Wouldn’t they …? I don’t. All I feel is a sense of accomplishment, of justice.

I’m about to read the article when another text comes in from Sloane.

You know, if he happened to have exploded in a freak fireworks accident, I’d be proud of you.

A chill races through my veins as I raise my eyes to watch Lachlan slice his way through the crowd, weaving a path toward the bar. I take a step back then veer to the left, headed for the doors to the empty rooftop patio.

What do you mean? Did Lachlan say something to you?

No. Not at all.

An icy wind cools the heat that floods my skin as I try to work out what to say. It feels like standing on the edge of a cliff, of being afraid of falling but still wanting to jump. Before I can work out a reply, my phone buzzes in my hand with another message.

I just figured, maybe you needed to hear it. Maybe I’m wrong. But if you’re like me, I don’t love you any less. Not one bit. And maybe you can tell me about it sometime.

Tears flood my vision. I try to blink them away. Relief and regret twine in my chest. The only regret I’ve ever felt about the things I’ve done is that I haven’t shared them sooner with the one person who has never hidden her darkness from me.

I swipe a tear from my cheek and tap out my reply.

I love you too, Sloaney. And I’d like that.

I pocket my phone and stare at the horizon, trying to force the storm of emotions away. The lingering desire for the kiss that never came. The sting of rejection. The shame and relief of secrets forced to the surface. But there’s not much hope of finding any relief as I stare across the city. It’s barely been five minutes before I hear the door open behind me. I don’t need to turn around to know it’s Lachlan.

“Hey,” he says simply as he slows to a stop next to me. “Thought I might find you here. Mind if I share your perch?”

My smile is weak, ready to shatter. I train my attention on the city lights. “Go ahead.”

Lachlan leans his forearms on the railing, his elbow a gentle pressure against mine. The wind gusts as though rising from the channels and tributaries of streets below us, lifting my hair from my shoulders. It’s a welcome chill to the heat that lingers just beneath my skin.

Lachlan gestures toward the view and I catch the glimmer of his wedding band. “We had a very similar view when we first moved to America,” he says. “Leander put us up in a condo just a few buildings west of here.”

“On your own?” I ask, and Lachlan nods. “How old were you?”

“Seventeen.” He gives me a bittersweet smile before looking back at the skyline. “I enrolled the boys in school, started working. Leander got me a job at a leather manufacturing factory. For the daytime, anyway.”

“And for the night?”

Lachlan shrugs. “I owe him a lot. Covering up what Rowan and I did back in Sligo. Bringing us here. Setting us up.”

“Sloane might have mentioned a thing or two about that,” I say, giving him a sheepish smile when he rolls his eyes. I nudge his elbow and add, “But you don’t need to owe him forever. At least, not if I have anything to say about it.”

“If anyone could convince Leander to do something, I think it’s you,” Lachlan says as he chuckles and shakes his head. “He still hasn’t gotten over being bested in his own home by a muffin. He loved it.”

I meet Lachlan’s eyes and he seems closer than I thought he’d be, somehow. There’s warmth in his eyes as he gives me a lopsided grin, but the remnants of sadness remain.

Our smiles fade as we stand side by side in the biting cold. I’m the first to break our connection and look out across the city, though it takes effort to look away. I can feel him still watching in the periphery.

“I like the view here. I like to see for a distance. It feels like you can see the whole city from this high,” I say. My heart pounds, every thump driving me closer to a memory that I normally try so hard to avoid. It’s so heavy and loud in my chest that I’m sure Lachlan can see it thrum in my neck, but if he can, he doesn’t let on. “It was a home invasion. That’s how I lost my dad. That’s why my mom walks with a limp. Why I don’t like small spaces. Why sometimes I can’t sleep.”

Lachlan could say something snarky, something teasing. But he stays quiet, a steady presence next to me. He watches as I sweep wayward strands of hair from my eyes and focus on the farthest points I can see along the horizon, pinpricks of light in the black distance.

“My mom woke us in the middle of the night. She hid us in the linen cupboard. Told us that no matter what we heard, no matter what happened, if she or Dad didn’t come for us, we weren’t to leave that closet until seven in the morning unless we heard the police. I guess she thought they’d be gone by dawn. Stay still, stay silent. ‘God save my girls.’ That was the last thing she said before she went downstairs. The last time I ever heard her ask God for anything, actually.”

And I prayed too that night. I asked Him to save my family. I prayed and prayed and prayed to a God who never answered. Three shots, two screams, and only a few minutes of commotion as thieves stole money and jewelry and car keys and ran. But not a word from God.

“We could see the alarm clock in the next room through the crack between the doors. I remember every time we checked. Two twenty-four. Three eighteen. Five thirty-nine. Six twelve. Six fifty-two. Seven o’clock finally came and my sister made me stay upstairs as she got help for my mom. She was unconscious downstairs. Dad was already dead. And I never prayed again.” I take a deep breath and clasp my hands together as though I can press the next words out of my body. “Not even at Ashborne, when …”

Those words float away on the wind. I don’t try to catch them. They’re just gone, not ready to be shared, no matter how much I wish I could give them away.

I shake my head. This isn’t the kind of thing I can talk about with anyone, not even Sloane. It’s like the concrete in our foundation that we know exists, but never acknowledge. Even when I went to therapy, I talked around Ashborne. I was too nervous to tell the truth, too worried about endangering my best friend. It was easier to slip into another disguise, to channel the persona I’d practiced so that other people wouldn’t feel uncomfortable around me. I thought I’d end up lonelier if I wasn’t who they wanted me to be. But it doesn’t really work that way. You still live with your true self on the inside.

“Thank you,” I whisper, unable to look at Lachlan as tears fill my eyes. “For Dr. Campbell. For doing that with me.”

Maybe Lachlan is unsure how I feel about this. I guess it’s hard to know when I don’t look his way. But he takes a risk anyway. My eyes drift closed when he runs a knuckle across my cheek. “He did nothing to stop what happened to you. He deserved what he got.”