The aquarium was somewhat crowded on a Sunday at eleven in the morning. Dim and cool, marine life occupying tanks on both walls and even overhead, it was like walking underwater, like being in a different world. Lost in thought, I wandered past the floor-to-ceiling tanks, trailing my finger along the glass when a fish swam right up to it, following its movement with my hand. I'd been holed up the entire day before and I'd needed to get out or I’d go crazy. That particular argument had made my grandmother pale and had her suggesting I go into San Francisco to the aquarium where she'd bought a pass several months before. She had an appointment—thank God—and so I'd been able to get out alone. I wasn't particularly interested in the aquarium, but that wasn't really the point. The point was a small dose of freedom, something to occupy my mind. And so here I was. Of course, I was certain the woman with an aquarium badge hanging around her neck who seemed to be trailing me wherever I went was not a coincidence. My grandmother had called someone to make sure I didn't run away again. I supposed I didn't exactly blame her. I'd obviously taken years off her life already. And now after what had happened at the charity event, I was sure she thought I might break at any moment. And, God, maybe I would. Still, feeling like a mental patient, even in the outside world, was intolerable. I couldn't live like that. It was no life at all.
I felt his body heat behind me—an awareness that made the small hairs on the back of my neck stand up—before I heard him speak. My body stiffened.
"You still smell the same. Even here." His voice was low and slightly hoarse right behind my ear. "It's like I can smell the forest all around us, even now. Pine, and," he paused and I somehow knew he was closing his eyes, "those wildflowers that grow at the side of the stream—the white ones." His breath fanned the side of my neck and I shivered, closing my eyes briefly, swearing the rush of the water in the tanks was the stream flowing past us. If only.
"You shouldn't be here," I said, but it came out breathy and unsure. More a question than the statement I'd intended. My heart was beating out of my chest.
"No?" He moved my hair over my shoulder and leaned in. "Then where should I be, Lily?"
"This isn't the forest, Ryan. It's the real world and—"
My words died as Ryan's hand moved slowly down my arm, his fingers weaving through mine. I clenched my eyes shut. "And what?"
"How did you find me?"
"I called the car company you used, told them I'd forgotten something in their vehicle, had them confirm the address. I followed you here."
"Inventive," I said, pulling my hand from his. I was trembling, and I suddenly hated him just a little for doing this to me. Hated him for making this hurt more than it already had.
"I went back, you know, every month for nine months straight. I went back to Whittington, and I searched for you. You haunted me. I walked through the forest. I called your name. And all this time, all this time, Lily, you were a few miles away from me. You just disappeared. Were you really going to leave me without so much as an explanation again?" The hurt in his voice made my chest ache. "Didn't you think of me, too?"
Oh, God. Oh, Ryan. Please don't do this to me. He'd gone back. He'd searched for me. He pulled my arm, and I stumbled around a corner with him into a small alcove on the other side of a tank of jellyfish. Moving light danced all around us in the dim space, and I was face to face with him now. He was right in front of me—too close—his blue, blue eyes, his high cheekbones, his straight nose, and those lips . . . the lips I would never kiss again. The lips I had watched kiss someone else. "Wasn't what my grandmother told you enough?" I averted my eyes. "Everything that happened between us, none of it was real. None of it. You were a fantasy, nothing more. Don't you see, now that you know about me? We were just two sick people running through the forest like children playing make-believe."
He leaned back suddenly as if I'd hit him. "You're wrong. You don't believe that. You can't even look at me when you say it. This isn't real. This is fake, Lily. A lie. You acting as if what we had meant nothing is false. What we had in the forest was real, and it was right. What I felt for you, what I feel for you is real."
"You didn't know who I was," I whispered. "You didn't even know who you were."
He watched me for several moments. "Is that part of this then? You not being able to get past me being sick? Damaged goods?"