My parents will start hanging out at home exactly never, Skye could have told him, but she knew that wasn’t his real reason.

The reason he left every evening was the same reason she didn’t want him to leave. Because if he lingered in her house late at night—in her room—the tension simmering between them would finally boil over.

As much as she wanted that, Skye knew it would only lead to heartbreak. If Balthazar kissed her only when he was carried away, he would eventually take it back. That had hurt too much last time; she was in no hurry to go there again.

No, the next time they kissed—she wanted it to be their choice. Their decision. Something neither of them would ever take back.

Not everyone agreed with this point of view.

“You sound better,” Clementine said.

Skye stretched across her bed, propping her ankles up on the footboard as she adjusted her phone’s headset. “Not being repeatedly attacked by vampires really helps your mood.”

“Well, yeah. I still can’t get over that. I mean, we were surrounded by vampires all the time at Evernight, and none of them ever tried to hurt us. Except that one time you and Courtney Briganti wore the same dress to the Autumn Ball.”

“Do you think Courtney was a vampire?” After she thought that over for a second, Skye finished, “No, wait, of course she was.”

Clem continued, “Anyway, as soon as we found out vampires were real—I don’t know about you, but I figured they weren’t all bad.”

“Some of them aren’t.” Skye sighed heavily as she glanced at her most recent packet of history readings. “But some of them definitely are.”

“Speaking of the ones who aren’t—when I said you sounded better, I didn’t just mean, you know, not freaking out all the time.” By now Clem sounded almost smug; it was as if her satisfied smile could shine across the cellular connection. “I mean, you sound happy. Especially when you talk about Balthazar.”

“Nothing else has happened.”

“He kissed you!”

“Once. And I kissed him once. That’s it.”

“You need to jump his bones.”

“Clementine!”

“You know you do!”

“No,” Skye said, trying to sound more firm than she felt. “Chasing a guy like that only gets you hurt. Any guy who really cares about you should want to be with you. Once he knows how you feel, he should step up.”

“And you feel like Balthazar’s not stepping up?”

Skye pushed herself up onto her pillows, trying to think about how best to say what she really meant. “He looks out for me every single day. He’s my protector. He’s my friend. So it’s not like he’s treating me badly, you know? Nobody’s ever treated me like this. Like I … mattered more than anything. Not since Craig when we first got together, and even then, it wasn’t like the way Balthazar treats me.”

“… but…” Even that one word was enough to make Skye envision her friend’s teasing face at that moment.

“But he won’t make a move. I guess he has his reasons.” Breathing out in frustration, Skye said, “I hate his reasons.”

“I say jump him now and ask his reasons later.”

Skye would have told Clem to shut up about jumping Balthazar if she hadn’t been laughing too hard to get the words out.

She was still thinking about Clementine’s advice the next Saturday, when she and Balthazar went riding again.

“The sky looks like snow.” Balthazar stared out toward the horizon, where the clouds were a low, even, pale gray. “Good thing we’re riding today. It’ll be a week or two before we could take the horses out again.”

“You’ve gotten to like this as much as I do.” Skye could tell by the lift of his chin, the way a smile played on his face, just beneath the surface.

He patted Peppermint’s neck. “You’re right. Riding out here—it’s reminded me of so many things. Moments I’d let myself get too far away from.”

“You mean, memories of your life?” That short time was all the life he’d had … only one year more than her. Everything else, all the centuries in between—whatever they were, they weren’t living.

“That’s part of what I mean,” Balthazar said. Then he hesitated, as he if he knew he shouldn’t say any more.

Skye thought of everything else he might mean—what else he might have gotten too far away from in all those years alone, and the pleasure they took in riding together—and suddenly it was hard not to shyly look away.

But she didn’t. She kept her eyes on Balthazar’s face, and she could see the struggle inside him, though she couldn’t tell whether he was fighting to speak or to stay silent. The cold wind picked up, whipping past so briskly that her cheeks stung and her ears felt numb. Skye would have remained there all day, though, if it meant that Balthazar might finally take a stand for her—

—until Eb suddenly reared back, dumping her off her saddle.

“Skye!” Balthazar reined in his horse, which was also shifting unevenly, then swiftly dismounted. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” She adjusted her helmet, more embarrassed than anything else. Though she’d landed hard on her butt, that was a pretty standard risk when riding horses. “Eb, what got into you? That’s not like you.”

Balthazar’s hand cupped her elbow as he helped her up. “Take it easy,” he said, looking down at her. Suddenly that one small touch didn’t seem as simple, or as innocent. And that warm concern in his eyes—like she mattered more than anything—