head toward me. I lean down and give him three slow kisses. “You can tell me anything,” I say.
“I can’t,” he says. “But I need you to trust me. I need to know if you can trust me to make a decision. A hard one. I guess what I’m asking is, Would you trust me?”
I kiss him one more time. The train disappears down the track. The rumble fades with it.
“I trust you,” I say.
Back in the present, tears run down my cheeks. “If I’d known...” I say. The memory ended abruptly. I have no idea what happened after. If I just agreed, or if I pried for more information...
Or if I trusted him, exactly like I said.
“You trusted me,” Noah says. He wants some sign of forgiveness or understanding, I’m sure. And part of me wants to give it to him. I just don’t think I can yet, or what it’ll mean when I finally do.
I wipe the tears away. We can’t do this now. Our friends are out there, who knows where, and they need us. A trip down memory lane doesn’t make our problems go away.
“You made your choice,” I say with as much finality as I can muster. And he did. Trust or not, I never would have agreed to stripping my identity. But remembering what happened, it’s harder to be mad at him.
He looks upriver again. The banks are still clear, and I’m done waiting to be found. I run to the edge of the rock and jump onto the bank, throwing my damp shirt over my shoulder. My jeans stay on in case we make it back to civilization.
The stones shift and clap under my feet, too loud. I pick my way along the shore, hoping I can find my friends before the sun goes down.
“That’s what people do when they’re in love,” Noah calls after me. “They make crazy decisions. They do what they think is best, and sometimes it turns out to be a mistake. Miranda.” I stop. And turn. He stands on the rock above me.
“Just tell me you won’t hate me forever. Tell me it’s not over between us.”
I want to say the words. I even think them. It’s over . Because how could it not be? But all I can say is, “I don’t know. Please,” before starting up the bank again. The sadness is in my chest and the only thing I can do is walk. I slip into the trees for cover. Eventually Noah catches up and we walk side by side in silence.
He finds something else to talk about. Something obvious. Something that saves us from discussing any memories or declarations of trust. “You know, we don’t have much time left on those shots.”
“So I’ve heard,” I say. “You didn’t happen to snag any when you left the first time, did you? Because that would be really convenient.”
“I did...”
We make it another ten steps without him elaborating. I duck under a low branch.
“But,” I say.
“But I lost them in our escape. We had to fight one of Tycast’s security. My bag, it... Well, it spilled, and...”
My mouth falls open. “So if Peter hadn’t found you, you guys would’ve lost your memories too.”
Noah’s hand brushes mine on the forward swing, but I can’t tell if it’s intentional. “We would’ve come back before then. But the shots we brought gave us time.”
“And you didn’t invite Peter because...”
“I told you why.”
“But you trust him now?”
It feels like we’re wandering, but we’re not. We’re taking a roundabout route, back the way we came; considering how long we were in the water, we know Olive and Peter have to be in this direction. I wait for Noah to answer while my eyes flit over the trees. Dead leaves coat the forest floor, crackling underfoot. It’s hard to see footprints in the low light.
“Noah,” I say.
“Sure. I trust him.”
I look at him. He stops and I stop. The corner of his mouth turns up in a forced, uncomfortable smile. Then his eyes narrow, and I feel it too.
A fear wave. It’s weak, but with the now-familiar scent of roses. And it seems like I can feel what direction it’s coming from.
“They’re close,” I say, picking up the pace.
“How do
“I can’t,” he says. “But I need you to trust me. I need to know if you can trust me to make a decision. A hard one. I guess what I’m asking is, Would you trust me?”
I kiss him one more time. The train disappears down the track. The rumble fades with it.
“I trust you,” I say.
Back in the present, tears run down my cheeks. “If I’d known...” I say. The memory ended abruptly. I have no idea what happened after. If I just agreed, or if I pried for more information...
Or if I trusted him, exactly like I said.
“You trusted me,” Noah says. He wants some sign of forgiveness or understanding, I’m sure. And part of me wants to give it to him. I just don’t think I can yet, or what it’ll mean when I finally do.
I wipe the tears away. We can’t do this now. Our friends are out there, who knows where, and they need us. A trip down memory lane doesn’t make our problems go away.
“You made your choice,” I say with as much finality as I can muster. And he did. Trust or not, I never would have agreed to stripping my identity. But remembering what happened, it’s harder to be mad at him.
He looks upriver again. The banks are still clear, and I’m done waiting to be found. I run to the edge of the rock and jump onto the bank, throwing my damp shirt over my shoulder. My jeans stay on in case we make it back to civilization.
The stones shift and clap under my feet, too loud. I pick my way along the shore, hoping I can find my friends before the sun goes down.
“That’s what people do when they’re in love,” Noah calls after me. “They make crazy decisions. They do what they think is best, and sometimes it turns out to be a mistake. Miranda.” I stop. And turn. He stands on the rock above me.
“Just tell me you won’t hate me forever. Tell me it’s not over between us.”
I want to say the words. I even think them. It’s over . Because how could it not be? But all I can say is, “I don’t know. Please,” before starting up the bank again. The sadness is in my chest and the only thing I can do is walk. I slip into the trees for cover. Eventually Noah catches up and we walk side by side in silence.
He finds something else to talk about. Something obvious. Something that saves us from discussing any memories or declarations of trust. “You know, we don’t have much time left on those shots.”
“So I’ve heard,” I say. “You didn’t happen to snag any when you left the first time, did you? Because that would be really convenient.”
“I did...”
We make it another ten steps without him elaborating. I duck under a low branch.
“But,” I say.
“But I lost them in our escape. We had to fight one of Tycast’s security. My bag, it... Well, it spilled, and...”
My mouth falls open. “So if Peter hadn’t found you, you guys would’ve lost your memories too.”
Noah’s hand brushes mine on the forward swing, but I can’t tell if it’s intentional. “We would’ve come back before then. But the shots we brought gave us time.”
“And you didn’t invite Peter because...”
“I told you why.”
“But you trust him now?”
It feels like we’re wandering, but we’re not. We’re taking a roundabout route, back the way we came; considering how long we were in the water, we know Olive and Peter have to be in this direction. I wait for Noah to answer while my eyes flit over the trees. Dead leaves coat the forest floor, crackling underfoot. It’s hard to see footprints in the low light.
“Noah,” I say.
“Sure. I trust him.”
I look at him. He stops and I stop. The corner of his mouth turns up in a forced, uncomfortable smile. Then his eyes narrow, and I feel it too.
A fear wave. It’s weak, but with the now-familiar scent of roses. And it seems like I can feel what direction it’s coming from.
“They’re close,” I say, picking up the pace.
“How do
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