Chapter 9

“All right,” I said. “Let’s set a time. Consider it a proper goodbye.” The next time I saw Aiden Blackwood, he was wearing the first shirt I’d ever given him. The fabric was slightly worn at the cuffs, but still clean—like he’d kept it carefully all these years. When his eyes met mine, he shifted awkwardly in his seat, hands resting on his knees, gaze lowered as if afraid to startle me. He brought everything—the photo album I’d thrown away, the journal I’d left behind,...