In the Ghost Office, in the middle of the night, under the glow of magic fireflies, the plan starts to come together.

It’s daring. Risky. But if everything works, if we do this just right - then Kasey’s strategy should have us in and out of the front door, pursued by no one. The cops shouldn’t even be called. Albert Bratton will never know that something has disappeared from his collection.

And we should walk away with the locket.

This will not be like our quiet raid on the Forest Industries Council archives. This plan requires groundwork, weeks in advance. We’re going to have to make several trips to the Bratton Collection. Aiden is going to have to hone one or two new magical skills, but he thinks he can do it, with practice.

The day of the heist is going to be ridiculous. Insane. I can barely envision it.

“Aiden will do all of the lying,” Kasey says, “And Jamie, you just stick to things that are true. Aiden can’t do this without your help. It’s going to look too suspicious otherwise.”

Everything, everything hinges on Coburn, and he’s a factor we can’t control for. Sweat gathers beneath the collar of my flannel as Kasey explains how this will work.

When we have every last detail of the plan figured out and pinned down, we gather up all of the papers we printed out. We stack them in front of the Ghost Office, building a big pile on the pebbled beach.

Aiden puts a fingertip to it, letting heat seep out until the papers spark and burst into flame.

We stand together in silence, and watch it all burn.

~~~~

“Hey,” Aiden says, when we head back inside to grab our bags.

“Hmm?” I glance over and spot him examining the brand new windows that Raj just installed. He touches a hand to the nearest one and gives the frame an experimental push. The window falls open. Cold night air wafts inside.

“Did these open before?”

“Nope,” I answer, settling the strap of my bag over my chest. “That’s an improvement we can thank Raj for.”

“It is an improvement. Definitely.” Aiden takes a deep breath of the frigid air before he closes the window again. “I guess we’ll have the lights working soon, too.”

I almost don’t want Noah to fix the power at the Ghost Office. Yes, it’s annoying that I can’t charge my phone, but I prefer these lights that Aiden makes, homespun circles of brightness that sometimes drift high up into the rafters, and other times float around my shoulders and bump against my cheek.

I’m still not over the fact that Aiden can do magic. Make light from darkness, and heat from cold, like it's nothing. I keep waiting for the amazement to wear off, but it just doesn’t. Every time I see that white-blue flare in his eyes and know that he’s about to do magic - intentional or not - my heart stops for a moment. That’s what happens, when impossibilities come to life right before your eyes.

On the drive back to my apartment, Aiden drops a hand from the steering wheel and rests it on my knee, instead. He flashes me a quick, intimate smile in the rearview when I close my fingers around his.

Aiden Callahan. Sometimes I still don’t fully believe it, after our history.

Impossibilities everywhere. Each one more perfect than the last.

~~~~

The first time that Aiden ever invited me somewhere, I ended up spending an evening examining antique photographs, breaking out of a government building, falling out of a window, and dodging the flashlight beams of several security guards.

Coffee on Friday? is how he’d invited me to that little excursion. So, I’m not totally sure what to expect from this date. Especially when Aiden texts me to say that I don’t need to bring anything, just wear comfortable clothes, and more importantly, comfortable shoes.

He shows up wearing jeans, a snapback, and a grey henley that hugs his considerable shoulders and biceps but falls loose everywhere else. I have to smile to myself; I’ve told him before, just in passing, that I like how it looks on him. This feels maybe a lil' bit deliberate. Maybe.

He’s also wearing his hiking boots.

“There better not be a tent hidden in there,” I tell him, poking at his suspiciously full backpack. He unhooks my car keys from the wall, shaking his head.

“Nope. Wouldn’t do that to you. Especially not after - didn’t you hear about that incident with the bears and the hikers last week?”

“What incident?” I ask, whipping around to face Aiden, and then, when I find him grinning - “Oh, you - idiot, jerkface bastard-”

“Dumbass.” He taps my nose affectionately. “Got your jacket?”

A few minutes later, we’re in the car, and Aiden is pulling us away from the curb.

Ketterbridge falls into the rearview. Aiden plugs in his phone and turns on the playlist I made for him. He rolls all the windows down. The chestnut strands escaping from his snapback catch in the breeze, picking up and throwing off early afternoon sunlight.

“Are you really still not gonna tell me where we’re going?”

He just gives me a sly smile, and I toss my hands into the air, but I’m not really mad. Not at all. Even if this was the date, cruising around together through the wooded roads leading away from Ketterbridge - like. That wouldn’t be the worst. Far from it, in fact.

We drive for some time. Not as far as we went to get to the forest trail where we started our camping trip, but the actual town of Ketterbridge is miles and miles behind us by the time that Aiden turns the car. He pulls us onto a slick strip of asphalt that - doesn’t even have a fucking road sign?

“Are we going on a hike?” I ask, glancing again at his boots.

“A short one, yes.”

There are no other cars, no other hikers. Not a particularly popular spot, I guess. Aiden locks the car, slings his backpack over his shoulder, and reaches for my hand.

We walk together into the forest. I probably wouldn’t choose a hike for a first date - okay, for any date - but at least the way is easy and flat, not an uphill trek like the one from our camping trip.

On either side of the path, trees reach for each other, their canopies mingling over our heads and turning the sunlight green. I can hear faint bird calls, and the greenery isn’t as dense as it was in the old forest, so I can see much farther in every direction around us. This is way more relaxing than I expected it to be. Actually a pretty nice date. I have to hand it to Aiden. I turn to smile at him, then frown when I find him hopping over the wooden fence that lines the path.

“Um?”

“Come on, I know where I’m going, I promise.”

So it is that I’m deep in the middle of the woods, hopping a fence onto a bed of damp, fallen leaves, to just - get to my date with Aiden? He really must know how much I like him, by now.

We walk farther, until I can’t see the path anymore. Talking sometimes, but also sharing stretches of comfortable silence. Weaving our way around towering Sitka spruces, the soft palm of his hand pressed against mine the whole time.

“Hey.” I draw to a stop, listening. “Do you hear that?”

It’s a faint, musical, rushing sound. A body of water, I think. Aiden smiles, then gives my hand a tug.

We step around a thicket of close-growing hemlocks, and I stop again, my eyes widening. My hand drops from Aiden’s.

“Oh my god,” I breathe, staggered.

There’s a shallow creek winding through this part of the forest, pouring down the crest of an incline and over clusters of mossy boulders. And on the hill, a little ways back from the water, is a tree. A slow-growing, deciduous tree, at least seventy feet tall. It has a round, sweeping crown, positively overflowing with leaves in every warm shade of color: gold and scarlet and ochre, crimson and burnt orange. Leaves bursting from every delicate stem.

I know exactly what kind of tree this is.

Aiden slips his fingers through mine again.

“Do you remember,” he murmurs, “When you kissed me under the Guardian Tree, and I panicked?”

“Sort of,” I manage. “Vaguely.”

His low, huffing laugh finally pulls my gaze from the tree, and I turn to look at him.

“I went camping in these woods after that, when I needed time to think.” Aiden is biting his lip, nervous to share this with me, I can tell. “I was freaking the fuck out, and I just wanted a sign, something to tell me that - being with you…” He fades off, and has to start again. “I set up camp after dark, on the third night. Didn’t know where I was, or what was around me. When I got out of the tent the next morning, I realized that I was camped under this tree, and I just - knew what it was. It was changing from the top down.”

A memory flashes through my head. Aiden and I, sitting on the hood of my car on a dark night. The neon glow of the pizza place we were parked next to. The soft dusting of rain coming down on us.

Your turn, he’d said. What tree am I?

Sugar Maple.

You got that one fast. Why Maple?

Because - you know, they go through this beautiful transformation as the year goes on, flower from the top down. Rough bark, but bleeds sugar.

My eyes flick back to the massive sugar maple before us. It’s reaching the heights of its annual transformation, its crown turned into a vivid red cloud of brilliant leaves. Winged seeds are fluttering down through its boughs, catching on the breeze, swirling and spinning.

“It felt like a message,” Aiden says, very quietly. “So I thought it would be cool, to - come back here with you. You know. Show the tree that I listened.” He smiles at me, suddenly a little shy.

“Oh,” I answer, after probably a solid minute of processing that.

“Yeah, so…” Aiden pats his backpack. “I brought some snacks, and a blanket, and I was thinking - you wanna just like - hang out here, for a bit? The tree’s got good shade.”

I keep looking for the right words to answer him, but my eyes are a little wet, and I feel all tongue-tied, not particularly capable of expressing myself.

In the end, I just let my boyfriend take my hand, and lead the way.

~~~~

This afternoon is going by way too fast. I want more daylight. Sunset means we have to go home.

We've been on this blanket beneath the maple for a handful of lazy, peaceful hours. Talking, snacking, making out. Now we’re both starting to get a little tired, and I’m cuddled up with my head on his chest, watching the fading sunlight sift through the branches. I know we’ll have to leave soon, but I’m trying to pretend otherwise.

Aiden has one arm tucked behind his head. A soft, radiant smile on his face. It’s a hilariously tranquil expression for him to be wearing, given that we’re currently discussing our upcoming heist.

“I’m surprised that you’re not more annoyed about having to drive to and from the Bratton Collection a bunch of times,” I tell him. “You told me that you hate road trips.”

Aiden shrugs, his eyes closed.

“I don’t hate the ones I take with you. Not at all. It’s just that…” A beat of silence, and then another. “While I was away from Ketterbridge, I did a lot of hitchhiking. I traveled all over the states before I started branching out to different countries, and that was the cheapest way to get around, here. But I never liked doing it. I’m lucky, nothing too bad ever happened, but you never know who you’re getting in a car with, and you hear horror stories, staying in hostels. I was always on edge, so... when I think of long car rides, I think of being tense for a couple of hours without a break.”

I prop myself up on my elbow, leaving one hand sprawled on Aiden’s chest. I stare down at him, taken completely by surprise. He just shared something with me about his time away from Ketterbridge. Unprompted.

I don’t get to hear too much about it, normally. It makes him sad, and he clearly doesn’t like talking about it.

He’s just offered me a rare gift, and I think for a minute before I answer him.

“Did you go to every state?”

“Yes, I did. Even Hawaii, although that one did not require hitchhiking.”

I laugh softly, tracing my fingers in slow circles on his collarbone.

“You said that you don’t really remember that place in Cambodia that you went to, right? Do you - remember anything about the places you went to, here?”

“Sort of. Wasn’t drinking quite as much, at the time.” Aiden opens his eyes and looks up at me, touching his thumb to my chin. “I liked Alaska. It was really wild and beautiful. Stayed there longer than I meant to. It was the farthest I’d gone at that point, and everything else felt so far away. They call the rest of the states the lower 48, up there. And the sky, at night...”

I smile, and Aiden does, too.

“Sounds pretty.”

“It was. I also liked the lakes in Michigan. And the national parks in Montana.” He touches the tips of his fingers to my fingers. “Didn’t gel well with California, though. If hell is real, it’s a traffic jam on the Pacific Coast Highway.”

I laugh again, then lean down for a kiss. The rushing of the creek is the only sound, for a moment.

His snapback is next to us on the blanket, and a few helicopter seeds from the maple are stuck in his hair. I work them free and set them aside while I debate what to say next.

“I can’t believe you were traveling for such a long time. Were you literally on the move, nonstop, for all eight years that you were gone?”

“I stayed in Berlin much longer than I stayed anywhere else. But other than that, generally speaking, yes, I was on the move the whole time.”

Why? I want to ask, but something tells me that’s a step too far.

I roll onto my back and look up at the forty-foot spread of the maple canopy above us.

“You know,” I murmur, “Credit to me. I was so right about you being a sugar maple.”

“Oh, yeah?” Aiden asks, tipping his head to grin at me.

I want to tell him how this kind of tree needs a harsh winter, in order to transform. I want to tell him that some sugar maples wait two hundred years before daring to grow their first flower. How they don’t do well in confined spaces. How the seedlings can wait, growing at an achingly slow pace on the forest floor for years, until they perceive that there’s an open place for them. How they absolutely shoot up, after that.

Instead, I lean over to kiss him again. It's a much easier way of communicating what I'm feeling.

“So?” he asks later, as we make our way back to the path in the gathering dusk. “First date? How’d I do?”

“It was fine,” I answer. “Sort of. Like, you tried. That’s something, I guess.”

“Right. Could have been better. I thought so, too.”

“Yeah, not to criticize, but I sort of thought there would be fireworks.”

Aiden frowns. “Internal fireworks, or literal fireworks?”

“Both, obviously.”

“Shit!” He shakes his head regretfully, like it’s a damn shame. “Why didn't I think of that? This must be so disappointing for you.”

“It is. Really - so - disappointing-” My snark expression breaks. I crush my face into Aiden’s shoulder, but he already saw, and he bursts out laughing, too. “I can’t even pretend!” I groan. “Jesus Christ. It was great, babe. It was perfect.”

Some days Aiden is my sunlight, some days he’s my pool of calm.

Today he’s my sugar maple, and I’m the happiest linden in the forest.