Nolan shakes his head. “I want you to have it.”
I hug the jacket to my chest and breathe it in. Just the scent of it brings me back to when Nolan and I first met. He didn’t seem bothered by my embarrassing klutziness. He didn’t think I was weird because I carried an old-fashioned camera around wherever I went and preferred vintage clothes to the brand-new ones most of the girls at Ridgemont High wear. Finally I say, “I want me to have it too. But can you . . . can you take care of it for me while I’m gone?”
Nolan nods, but he doesn’t reach out to take the jacket, so I place it carefully on the steps beside him.
“And this,” I add, taking my beloved Nikon F5 from around my neck. “Can you hang on to this for me?”
“Don’t you want to take it with you?”
“I thought I did, but . . .” I trail off. Nolan gave me his jacket when I needed it. Now I want to give him something that’s important to me too. I hold the camera out in front of me, and Nolan finally takes it, lifting the thick strap around his own neck.
“I’ve read Victoria’s letter over and over.” His voice is heavy with frustration. “I still don’t understand what my role is in all of this.” Nolan is amazing at research, the kind of person who’s used to getting answers from books, articles, letters. I’m pretty sure this is the first time the written word has ever let him down.
I sit down beside him. “I’ll make sure Aidan explains it to me. I’ll ask him over and over and over again, and I won’t stop until it’s absolutely crystal clear. I’ll be the most annoying mentee he’s ever had.”
Nolan looks up at me and smiles, though he looks tired. I don’t think he slept much last night. Around dinnertime he called to find out how my drive to and from the hospital went, and I had to tell him what happened in the parking lot, how Aidan showed up, how we told Kat everything. I think he felt guilty he wasn’t there every step of the way.
And now he’s not going to be there for whatever my next steps will be either.
The front door opens behind us. Mom steps out onto the porch to let our little white dog, Oscar, out. Aidan is still waiting inside.
“I think it’s time, Sunshine.” Mom says.
“Okay. Just a sec,” I answer, and she turns to go back inside.
Nolan waits for Mom to close the door. “Come here,” he says softly, walking toward the side of the house.
Slowly I follow him. I start to ask why we’re walking away—what does he want to do or say that he can’t do or say in front of my mother?—but then I realize. I don’t know how I know—it’s not like this has ever happened to me before—but I just know. He wants to kiss me good-bye. Just like those couples I was so jealous of in the school parking lot yesterday. Just like the characters in my favorite Jane Austen books. (Okay, I know there’s not much actual kissing in Jane Austen novels, but sometimes my imagination takes liberties.)
The twelve steps it takes to get around to the side of the house feel like twelve hundred. My heart is pounding—not a million beats a minute like it did last night, but just really hard, like I can actually feel the blood pumping through my veins one beat at a time.
CHAPTER SIX
Confessions
I want to kiss Nolan. Of course I want to kiss him. But I’m not sure I want our first kiss—my first kiss ever, by the way—to be a kiss good-bye.
Does Nolan think I’m going to be gone a very, very long time and this is his last chance to show how he feels about me? I mean, I want him to show me how he feels—if this really is how he feels—but not right now. Not like this. And not just because it’s a kiss good-bye.
Ever since I met Nolan, his touch has had a . . . strange sort of effect on me. I don’t mean in a romantic, makes-my-knees-weak sort of way, though I really wish I did. Being near him may make me warm, but only up to a point. If he gets too close, I don’t feel good. I mean, I feel literally sick when he touches me, like I’m going to throw up or like I have a fever and need to lie down and get under the covers for a very long time. Which isn’t exactly conducive to romance. Sure, there have been times when I’ve ignored the feeling—when he was bleeding or when he grabbed my hand to run through the torrential rain. But those were emergency situations. They were nothing like this.
Still, here I am, around the corner from our front porch, my back leaning against the outside of our house. The kitchen is on the other side of this wall. The same wall that actually disappeared a few days ago as I battled the demon that threatened to kill my mother and Nolan and to destroy Anna’s spirit altogether. But right now this wall feels completely solid, like not even an earthquake could make it falter.