It’s late by the time we make it back from Greenrock. Our long day has left me so exhausted that it’s all I can do to drop Aiden off at home and crawl into bed. I slip into a knockout, dreamless sleep that carries me all the way through until morning, when I have to rouse myself and head into the flower shop.

I can tell that Aiden is tired, too. He sends me sleepy texts from work, along with photos of interesting snippets from the documents he’s archiving today. Then he sends me a much more awake-sounding text, heatedly outlining the wrong things the last archivist did when putting away a file that Aiden is now trying to fix.

Companion Plant 🍃 2:17 PM: He even left a rubber band on it. I’m so mad.

Me 2:18 PM: Next Ghost Office mission will be to find this archivist and put him on trial for his crimes

Companion Plant 🍃 2:19 PM: I know that you’re joking, but I actually think we should. There’s no excuse. NO EXCUSE.

I smile to myself, reading Aiden’s messages when I'm between customers. His righteous outrage draws recurrent bursts of laughter from me long after I tuck my phone back into my pocket. I get to work trimming the store plants, then pause to take pictures of the prettiest blossoms in the shop. I send them all to Aiden.

Me 2:53 PM: Bouquet for you 💕

He starts and stops typing several times before he responds.

Companion Plant 🍃 2:55 PM: 😊

Companion Plant 🍃 2:56 PM: You’re killing me, dude. You realize that?

I laugh again, then bite my lip. It feels stupid that I miss Aiden already. We only spent one night apart, and I was deeply asleep pretty much the instant I stumbled into bed.

And yet.

I still miss the little moments. Even when we’re both rushing to get to work, or too sleepy to say much. In the morning, there’s the buzzing of Aiden’s razor, the soft click of his watch snapping onto his wrist. The vetiver that clings to my sheets after he leaves.

At night, there's the drowsy movements of his fingers on my arm. There's coming back from the shower to find him already passed out, moonlight drifting over his sleeping face. A slow-breathing bronze body, all tangled up in my sheets.

Does he miss the little things about me, too? When we sleep alone, not together?

There’s a break in the flow of customers. I lean my elbows on the counter, my phone in my hands, rereading every message I’ve gotten from Aiden this morning.

My mind drifts to a memory from a night long past. My ninth-grade self, exhausted from crying for so long, my eyes puffy from tears. Standing in front of the sink in my mom’s kitchen, watching my journal full of poems burn.

I was swaying on my feet, unable to turn off the horror show I’d cooked up in my imagination. All the terrible possibilities of what Aiden might do with the poem he’d stolen from me earlier that day.

For a moment, the misery had hardened into anger.

I stood there and glared at the halo of flames around my journal, giving some serious thought to the idea of confronting Aiden. He tricked me, stole something from me, laughed at me, made me feel so stupid. And who knew what else he’d do, now that he had the poem?

I may as well face this head-on, I thought. I’ll go tell Aiden that he has to give me the poem back. Tell him what I think of him and his bullshit. Yeah, you know what? I’m gonna do it.

I decided that I’d go to his house. Immediately, before he could put whatever plan he had for my poem into motion. I didn’t have his address, but I knew that it would be in the school directory. I could find it in a few seconds, go to his place right after that. It wouldn’t take me too long to get there. Nowhere in Ketterbridge is too far to walk. I’d go in my damn pajamas, save some time.

But the idea passed over me like a breeze, there and then gone. There was absolutely no chance. I was way too intimidated by him to even attempt that.

There had always been a persistent itch of nervousness I’d felt around Aiden, even before he started being mean to me. It was still there, underlying everything else, adding to my already considerable nerves. I tried to envision myself looking right into his brooding, fiery eyes and keeping hold of my courage. Really letting him have it, telling him what a jerk he’d been.

Nope, my brain answered. You could never do it. Besides, it would feel mean. You’d feel worse, after. Not better.

No longer pissed off, I went directly back to miserable.

I folded my elbows on the kitchen counter and set my chin on my forearms. I watched the journal burn.

Why? I wanted to ask Aiden. What did I ever do to you, besides try to be your friend?

Looking back now, I wonder what would have happened if I’d really done it. If I had shown up at Aiden’s house in the middle of the night, with no warning, insisting that he give my poem back. In my pajamas, no less.

I can’t believe I even considered it. Even at fifteen, Aiden cut an intimidating figure, whereas I was short, skinny, anxious, and reliant on my inhaler. I knew all that, and still, I was seriously thinking about going over there and telling him off. That’s how damn worked up he used to get me.

And now, Aiden is the person I go to when I need to feel safe, consoled, understood.

Now, I’m standing here thinking about how much I love waking up to his beard tickling me. Or waking up to his voice, still rough with sleep, murmuring sweet things into my ear. I’m thinking that I never want to wake up without him in my bed.

Or our bed. That could be a thing.

I close my eyes and sink into what’s become my favorite daydream: the two of us waking up together in our own place. This time I add a puppy, curled up by our feet. The sunlight spilling onto the covers, tessellated through the branches of the trees outside. Aiden’s eyes, fringed with their dark lashes, blinking slowly awake. Finding mine. Smiling.

My fingers drift to the ring I’m wearing, an involuntary movement that startles me into opening my eyes.

Since the very first stirrings of my feelings for Aiden, the scope and depth of them took my breath away. And it still catches me by surprise, even now.

My love is a forest that never stops growing. And there’s a beautiful Sugar Maple, standing right at the center.

~~~~

It’s peaceful and still in the Ghost Office. All I can hear is Aiden’s breathing, mingled with mine. Even the old loft mattress feels cozy when I’m curled up with him.

“You’re quiet, Keane.” He takes a strand of my hair, gives it a gentle tug. “Something on your mind?”

I turn my head to look at Aiden, thinking. I decided a long time ago that I’d never tell him about how I burned the journal and stopped writing poetry after the incident. So I have to pick my words carefully, leave that part out.

I roll onto my side, bring my face closer to Aiden’s.

“I was thinking about... when you stole the poem from me.”

Aiden blinks at me, taken aback by my answer. His shoulders tense, and his gaze shifts away from me. He looks straight up overhead, staring at the sunlit rafters.

“That night,” I begin, nibbling my lip, “When I got home-”

I break off as Aiden cringes so hard that his eyes close. He rubs his jaw, looking pained.

“You were so upset,” he mumbles. “I felt so fucking terrible about it, listening to you.”

Oh, my god. Once again, I forgot that Aiden can hear me. He’s always been able to hear me, since the moment we met. He told me that he’s not an empath, and he can only pick up the broad strokes. But I was face-down in my bed, choking back sobs, so. He definitely heard that in my note, and knew exactly what it was.

“You’re - not gonna believe this,” he says abruptly.

“No?” I trail my fingertips over his sternum, his skin velvet soft beneath my fingertips. “Try me.”

“I…” Aiden lifts his hand, sweeps his fingers through his hair. “At one point I felt like I couldn’t listen to you like that any longer. I felt so bad, I couldn’t fucking take it, I - I almost caved. I went through my aunt's address book, since she knows your mom. Your address was in there. I still had the poem at that point, and I thought: I’m gonna go over there right now, and give it back to Jamie.”

I let out a dazed, startled laugh, sitting up on my elbow. “Shut up.”

“No, seriously.” Aiden still won’t look at me. He’s having one of those random bouts of shyness he gets hit with. “It was past midnight, but I was gonna walk to your place. I needed your note to stop sounding so miserable. It was killing me, especially knowing that I caused it. I was sitting there telling myself - congratulations, asshole. You just made the nicest guy you know cry.” Aiden covers his eyes, then peeks at me through his fingers. “You broke my heart in all kinds of different ways, that night.”

I stare at him in amazed silence, then burst out laughing again, collapsing back onto my side. Aiden lets out an agonized groan.

“Don’t laugh at me, man! I know that it’s pathetic, alright?”

“I’m not laughing at you.” I trace my forefinger down the hard curve of his bicep. “I’m laughing because we came very close to running into each other, halfway between our houses.”

Aiden glances down at me, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Just - I got it in my head that I was gonna walk to your house and demand my poem back. I wimped out, obviously, but. Yeah.”

Aiden stares at me, his eyes wide. Then he huffs out a laugh of disbelief. I join in, unable to stop myself. We lean into each other, and I feel the golden waves of his laughter vibrate through him. It’s easier to feel when our bare bodies are tangled up together like this.

Aiden’s laughter simmers down to a warm smile. He leans across the pillow, with a soft rustle of the bedding. His lips touch mine, tease them open. It starts out sweet and slow, then starts to gather heat and urgency. A small sound escapes my mouth, and I feel the shiver it sends through Aiden’s body.

He rolls on top of me, kissing me down into the pillows. He bites my neck and jaw, nuzzles my ear.

I wrap my thighs around him, let out a breathless laugh. “Again?”

“Mhm.” His low voice is already dropping lower, rough and sweet, like rock sugar. “If you’re down?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Oh, am I, Keane? Because you’re the one who jumped me the second we got here-”

I cut Aiden off with my mouth on his. His eyes blaze brightly, then close as I draw him into a deep, long kiss. He rocks teasingly against me, and I melt beneath him, sinking my fingers into his chestnut hair.

The burnt feeling in my cheeks deepens as the heat of my Heliomancer seeps into my body. I drag my fingernails through his beard, and the ticklish, scratchy feeling is paradise. Aiden purrs against my mouth, enjoying it just as much as I am.

I shove Aiden over and straddle him, panting a little, then more as he slides his hands up my thighs. The thumping in my chest is calling to him, and he answers it, leaning up to press kisses into my collarbone, up the curve of my shoulder, my neck.

I drink in every feeling, every sensation. Our hearts are pounding together, racing each other.

Aiden moves suddenly, tosses me onto my back. He climbs over me, his piercing blue eyes gazing down into mine, burning with desire. He bends to kiss me.

Then he stops, and looks up over my head.

I prop myself up on my elbows, turn to follow Aiden’s eyeline. He’s looking out through the big, open windows of the Ghost Office.

At first, I don’t see anything to explain what the hold-up is. Did he just - change his mind? He knows it's okay if he did, right? I'm down to just keep making out like this for a few more hours, or whatever. We don't have to do more.

Then it hits me: the sun is setting.

“Hey,” Aiden says, right as I finally get it. “Quick question. When are Will and Kasey supposed to get here?”

I reach for my phone, check the time, and bite my lip.

“Um… fifteen minutes ago.”

Aiden blinks down at me, and I blink up at him. We stare at each other in silence for a moment, then both scramble up off of the mattress, rushing for our scattered clothes.

“Fuck!” Aiden pulls up his boxers, then looks up at me, tossing his hair out of his face. “We’re so lucky that they’re late! How did this happen? I don’t even get it!”

I know exactly what he means. I have no idea where the hours went. We seem to flow in and out of time, when we’re doing this.

“At least we realized before we got any further!” I rush to do up the buttons of my jeans, then get to work on my belt. “Oh - Aiden, your hair is so fucked up-”

“Yours, too!”

We try to fix each other up. I pull my flannel on over my shirt, and Aiden pulls his snapback onto his head.

We stop to take a look at each other.

“Um,” I manage, “We still look - sort of-”

“Let’s get some air,” Aiden suggests, and I let out a helpless laugh.

“Yeah, that should do it.”

We make our clumsy way down from the loft, then across the Ghost Office. Aiden pushes up the rolltop door, and I follow him outside.

“Whoa,” he says, stopping still. I freeze by his side, staring.

From horizon to horizon, the smoldering sunset is painting the sky in all different shades. Hues of tangerine, lavender, peach, and indigo meet my eyes. Honey-colored sunlight, the last of the day, turns the tree branches gold. The half-frozen river is opalescent beneath the light, shifting and glittering.

As we watch, a cloud of tiny birds rises up from the pine trees with a soft shuffling of wings. Aiden and I follow their movements, our breaths puffing on the frosty air.

A thick mist winds around the bases of the bigleaf maples and white oaks, but the sky is brilliantly clear, and we have a grandstand view.

We take a long, silent moment to absorb it.

“Jamie would love this,” Aiden murmurs, so quietly that I almost miss it.

I turn to face him, finally managing to tear my gaze away from the sky.

“Um - babe? I’m right here.”

Aiden blinks, looks down at me.

“Sorry.” He huffs out a soft laugh, touches his thumb to my chin. “Just - old habits.”

I don’t know what this means, but it cracks something open in my chest, and warmth spills out, flooding me. I lean into Aiden, and he wraps an arm around my shoulders. We stand there together, watching the sun make its vivid exit.

The reverie is broken when the ghosts suddenly appear before us.

They’re both out of breath, red in the face. Kasey’s hair is a mess, and Will’s is worse. His green eyes are huge and wide, and there are more buttons undone on his shirt than usual.

“Hey!” Kasey says, since Will appears to be incapable of speaking. “Sorry we’re late! We, um. Lost track of time.”

Aiden and I stare at them. Then we swivel to look at each other, and instantly burst out laughing.

“Oh, man,” Aiden groans, “Why didn’t we schedule this meet-up for later?”

“Whatever, okay?” Kasey flaps a hand at him. “We’re here now, so - how was meeting Floyd?”

“It was absolutely dynamite,” Aiden and I answer, in unison.

Kasey looks puzzled, but she takes one look at our expressions and smiles with us. She smacks Will’s arm excitedly. He doesn’t notice. He’s lost in a kind of happy daze, busy trying to pull himself together.

“So Floyd was helpful?” Kasey asks, twisting back to face us.

“Oh, yes he was,” I answer. “Get comfy, because we’ve got a lot to tell you.”