Page 113 of Find My Way Down to You

That last word strikes me. There’s a strange weight to the way he says it. But it beats like oxygen in my blood, sings like the mockingbirds hidden in the trees.

“I love you too,” I say, beaming. “Always.”

His kiss is enticing and too short. Ivory light frames him as he moves toward the house. The shadows can’t touch him. He is a sun. He is mine.

At the door, he watches me for a long moment. “Can you stay a little longer? After we get back? To”—he fidgets—“talk more?”

He beams at me, but it’s not the weird smile I’m used to. The one he had just a second ago. I hear more strained voices from the open window. London looks like he’s fighting a frown or a scowl. Is this about his parents or something else?

I nod for him. “Yeah. Of course.”

I want him happy, I remind myself.Always.

16

Golden light passesthrough the white petal pinched between my thumb and index finger.

Narcissus.

Like the flower on the inside of my forearm. The one I misidentified before letting the tattoo artist ink it onto my skin.

I smile, thinking about Cary tracing its shape with his finger. The soft kiss he pressed to it while in his bed. The way he called itsacred.

I’ve been doing this for minutes…hours? The sun is up, but time is suspended. Frozen in a snow globe, waiting for someone to shake it up. Every thought in my brain is murky, blurred. As if nothing before yesterday ever happened.

Cary is the only crisp thing I can focus on.

The apartment is strangely quiet. No noise from the kitchen,no Max yelling at appliances. Just me, sighing dreamily.

Oh, and Diana. She’s busy cleaning herself in a corner of my bedroom.

I twist the velvety soft petal a second longer. Wishing it could make Cary appear again. Take me back to Aides.

A buzzing noise bursts my daydream. I find my phone on the floor. When I read the screen, my eyebrows scrunch.

It’s a FaceTime call.

“Mom?”

“Auggie!” She’s breathless, eyes wild. The background behind her is hard to make out. But she’s somewhere outside. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Where are you?”

“At”—I almost sayhomebut stop short—“my apartment.”

“Why aren’t youhere?”

“Here?” Confusion drags my lips into a frown. In her video, I see bright green grass. Chunks of gray I don’t recognize. “Are you at the greenhouse?”

“No. Why would I be there today?”

Because you’re always theresits unsaid on my tongue.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. A throb begins just behind my temples. It hurts to think. “Mom, what’s wrong?”

Surprise flashes over her face. Then anguish. “Auggie, are you serious? We were supposed to meet an hour ago.”