I sat there, unsure what to say, waves crashing inside me but my outward appearance calm. I took several deep breaths, held Henry's eyes when he looked into mine. He was sitting sort of hunched over due to his height, his elbows moved up onto the table, picking apart a napkin between his fingers and betraying the nervousness he'd felt in saying what he'd just said to me. What should I reply? I had to say something, though--I couldn't leave him wondering what I thought.

"I'm . . . I guess I . . . if that helped, then . . . I'm glad." I felt stupid and happy and awkward. I wanted him to elaborate but didn't know how to ask him to explain without making him feel uncomfortable.

Henry's mouth became a flat line. He dropped the napkin, and sat back against the booth. "We should get out of here." He stood.

I hurried to my feet. Had I said the wrong thing? He was acting a little stand-offish. Like I'd disappointed him. But what was I supposed to have said? I was still trying to figure out what it meant--how thinking of me had kept him from the memory wipe, if that was indeed what had happened.

I followed him out of the diner and into the bright daylight. We'd been sitting inside for a while. Henry stopped next to a bike rack and pointed up. "Look. See that? They're having some kind of carnival this weekend. I guess for the holiday."

Was he trying to shift my attention? I raised my eyes and saw the banner he was pointing at, hovering across the street. It said something about a local fair. A parade, and a carnival, and some sort of contest . . . I didn't read the whole thing. But the place did look rather festive, now that I could see it in the daylight. We were on some sort of main street, and all the lampposts and giant flower pots were decked in ribbons and red-white-and-blue decorations. This was actually a nice town, now that I could get a proper look at it, not like the middle-of-nowhere motels and shopping strips we'd seen all the way back from the coast and since then. I bet this was the sort of place where everybody knew each other and they had things like town socials and a high school where the football players and the cheerleaders were at the top of the social pyramid. It was probably the sort of place that had whole-town holiday celebrations and youth clubs and one swimming pool for all the residents and fry-ups where everyone brought their kids to run around while they drank and ate and socialized.

I turned and looked at Henry. The sky was blue; the sun was shining. We were alone, just the two of us--him as his normal self--at last. "Since we're just going to wait around," I said to him, hoping he'd forget anything I might have said incorrectly a moment ago, "why don't we be normal today? Like, just hang out. Maybe go to that carnival." He smiled slightly. I felt encouraged and smiled back, even bigger. "It might be nice to forget everything for a little while."

"As long as we don't forget they could be anywhere. We can't leave each other's sight."

Of course. No problem. Exactly what I wanted. "All right." I wanted to take hold of his hand, but I was too anxious to do so, yet. I promised myself that by the end of the day, I would.

For a good portion of the morning, we wandered around the little town. It was very charming. The street with the diner was the busiest and most put-together, with shops lining it and cafes with outdoor seating and cobblestones in some places. Every window had flower baskets, and every door a welcome sign. People began to grow more frequent, and after some time, police blocked off the main street and the parade began, traveling right in front of us. I couldn't recall ever having seen a parade, and neither could Henry, but this one was cute. It was entirely local, with floats obviously made by businesses and a parade of cars with teenaged girls dressed in formal wear for a pageant of some kind and the high school marching band breezing past--all of it was so, so normal, and I loved every minute of it. What would life be like for me and Henry if we didn't have to run? If we knew who we were and why they were after us? If we could just hide here and pretend to be regular people forever? If we could actually trust someone? Maybe we'd get lucky. Maybe without his acumen and our trackers, they wouldn't find us. Maybe we could stay here.

I knew it was wishful thinking, but it was still a nice fantasy, and it kept my mind occupied during my time with him. We'd never been with each other in such a normal capacity. Every moment I'd spent with Henry had been on the run or under someone else's control. I'd never been happier than I was that day, being normal, with him.

At some point, we found ourselves at the carnival. It'd been set up in the field where we'd argued that morning: the dark equipment we'd seen were rides, the kinds that looked precarious and were operated by people who didn't seem to care much. There were an upside-down ride and a little roller coaster and a ferris wheel and a fun house with mirrors and a giant inflated slide and several other similar attractions, and there was all kinds of carnival food, and games with prizes. I had never been so dumb excited. We had about a hundred dollars of our money left, and though we both knew it was stupid to spend it, we had this end-of-the-line sort of feeling, like they were going to catch up to us at any moment, and the money would become irrelevant. I don't think either of us could or even wanted to see past that day. So we bought the wristbands that let you ride all the rides, and we stood in lines and watched people and played games and got some cheap stuffed animals that we gave away. We ate kettle corn and snow cones and sat under awnings and listened to a terrible band play . . . it was perfect. The whole time, we were both, just, happy. We laughed at each other's bad jokes. We got competitive in the games. We seemed to inch a little close to one another on the rides with side-by-side seating. But we never actually touched each other--not directly. Henry put a hand at my back a few times to nudge me in a particular direction, and I got a little bold and pressed my leg against his on a ride and once pulled his hat off his head playfully, but we were careful. And I couldn't tell whether the caution was mostly on me or him or both of us, but I knew it was ballooning, the need to figure this thing out, to acknowledge it, to see if he felt what I felt and try to understand what it could mean.

After some time, early evening, probably around six or seven, we found ourselves listening to some loud, obnoxious band of several adults trying to relive their youths. The music wasn't great, but it was fun to watch the performers; they were pretty into it. We were also surrounded by people, which was a good thing--the more people around us, the more difficult it would be for anyone with sinister intentions to carry them out. In fact, it was one of the things we'd discussed a lot that day--the safety in being around others. We'd been with people the entire time, and while I was grateful for the security, part of me was weary of everyone and wanted to be alone with Henry.

Where we were, now, the music was so loud that everyone had to practically yell at each other to be heard. When Henry said something to me, I had to indicate that I couldn't understand, so he naturally leaned in closer to speak, and when he did, his lips brushed my ear, and I felt tingling all through my earlobe and through my cheek. I didn't even know what he said, I was so startled--but as I instinctively tried to draw back, he caught me and pulled me closer to him, kept his mouth where it was, against my ear, pressed closer, even. The electricity radiated from the contact, sending waves down into my neck and shoulder, and through the shock of what I felt, I heard his hot words, "I know you feel it, too." I closed my eyes, tried to shut out the light, the faces. The sound of it all blurred into white noise, and I knew only the warmth of his breath, the current spreading through my entire body, the pure rightness of the feeling. And when he suddenly withdrew, I awoke as if from a dream, everything slowly coming into focus. Henry's glass eyes were looking deeply into mine, as if waiting for me to resurface, to make sure I was all right, and when he saw I was myself, he needed no words to ask me to follow him. For the first time since I'd met him, he held out his hand, and, trembling, I took hold of it. Pins and needles rushed through my fingers, into my palm, up my arm and into my chest, but allowing it to remain didn't cause discomfort; the static morphed into a glowing, radiant heat, as if I were incandescent, some brightest candle burning inside me.

He led me out of the bandstand, around a ride, along the side of the fun house, where I leaned up against the wall. Henry stood before me, looking at me in the way I'd always wished he would--I'd caught glimpses of it from time to time, but I'd never been sure. It was amazing to be sure, now.

Releasing my hand, he released me, too, from the current. "How long have you known?" he asked, calmly.

The air around me felt fresh, cold almost. I studied his face in all its straight lines, its uncommon handsomeness. His eyes seemed almost glowing from within. "Since you first touched my hand, when you gave me the forget-me-nots, in the field outside Oliphant."

He smiled. "Me too."

"What is it?"

"I have no idea," he replied, shaking his head slowly. "But it must mean something."

"I've . . . been scared of it. I didn't know if . . . if you felt it, too."

He looked away, briefly, some concern flitting across his features. "Nadia, I have to know something." I was willing to tell him anything in that moment and said as much, but when he asked his question, my heart sank. "Will you tell me about--about him?" was what he said, and I knew what he meant.

The magic somewhat broken, I frowned. "I don't want to talk about Paolo."

"I know."

"What do you want to know, anyway? He tried to help me; they killed him. That's all."

Henry shifted his weight a little, seemed agitated. "Did you . . . did you have feelings for him?"

Clarity sank in. Was he . . . jealous? Was that why he'd brought Paolo up more than once? Had tried to get me to talk about him? "He's dead," I insisted.

"I know, and . . . I'm sorry, for asking it. I just . . . I can't think past it."

Neither could I. Taking myself back to those moments hurt, but not for the reason he seemed to be assuming. Could I tell him the truth? I had to. I didn't want any secrets between us. But I wished he hadn't asked, all the same. "I did care about Paolo," I began quietly, crossing my arms, recalling Paolo's mischievous voice and his soft waves of jet hair. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't. But I hardly knew him, really. I met him just, kind of, randomly, and then he offered to drive me to Colorado. I found out later that he'd been paid to take me there."

"By the Circuit?"

"I think so. Or whoever they work with. But we got separated for a long while, because of Lucas, and he eventually tracked me all the way to the coast, where you were. Someone had sent him my location. I don't know why, but it's like they wanted him to be there. Maybe . . . maybe hoping I would forget about you." I was unsure why I hadn't thought of that before--Henry said they were afraid of us being together. If that were true, had they purposely put Paolo in my path? Had they wanted me to forget about Henry? It had almost worked . . . after spending that night with Paolo, I'd considered--however briefly--leaving with him. "It is," I said aloud, though more to myself than to Henry. "It must be why they helped him get there."

"Were you . . . did you two . . ."

I looked back up at Henry. He was discomfited by whatever he was trying to say, and suddenly, I knew what it was. "No," I answered swiftly, embarrassed that he was even thinking it. I stared down at the grass, straightened my shirt though it didn't need straightening. "We got very--close to each other. One night. But that's it. I--I don't want to talk about it."

"I don't need to know anything else," Henry hurried, and I saw that he appeared relieved. He sighed, from what, I didn't know. "I don't mean to be so intrusive. I just . . . I've always felt that, somehow"— his eyes met mine—"we belong to each other."

My chest felt as if something were pressing against it from the inside, threatening to move up and into a sob or something similarly ridiculous. I couldn't keep tears from forming at the corners of my eyes. "I know we do," I struggled to say, "but you don't even know how horrible I am--how could you care about me if you knew?"

"What? What is it? I--I didn't mean to upset you--"

I was ashamed to admit it but had already started down the path to confession. I couldn't turn back, now. "Paolo told me he loved me. He said he loved me. Why would he do that? And I knew I didn't love him or feel anything close to that. I just--I used him. Like everyone else I used when trying to get to you. I hate that Paolo died; I hate the way it happened . . . but I can never forgive myself for--for not feeling bad enough about it. Because I know, Henry, that if I could go back and save him, I wouldn't do it if it meant I'd lose you. How--how could he love me when that's how I felt about him? He thought I was a good person. That I deserved his love. It was so stupid of him. How could he have. . ." I was working to hold back the tears, but I couldn't. Everything I'd been trying to forget about Paolo--the guilt I felt for not caring about him enough, the false impression he'd had of me, the knowledge that I'd let him die a million times before I lost Henry--it all rushed through me. I didn't deserve anything from anyone. I was as heartless, as unfeeling as Lucas. I didn't deserve Henry any more than I'd deserved Paolo.

"Nadia—I—I don't know what to say," Henry stuttered. "You can't blame yourself for what happened or how you feel. He made his own choices. You didn't ask him to care about you, did you? You didn't ask him to find you, to stay with you, to risk his life for you, did you?"

"No," I replied, calming myself, trying to wipe my eyes gracefully. "But why don't I feel worse about what happened to him?"

"There's no way to answer that, but it doesn't mean anything. You can't change it or fix how you feel. It just . . . is."

My chest heaved as I held back any more emotion, did my best to dwell in his words, to at least appreciate that I'd finally spoken my secret shame, even if my lack of regret still worried me. I tilted my head back, looked up at the numerous stars and gained strength from them. Breathed the night air deeply. Felt the world relax around me and loosened my arms to hang them at my sides. "He couldn't love me, anyway. He didn't even know me."

"I don't know anything about love, Nadia," Henry said, his voice close as he leaned next to me against the wall. "But I do know that I need you. I don't think I can exist without you."

I turned to look at him, and he was so beautiful under the starlight and shadow, small flames within his eyes. "I need you, too."

He placed the back of his hand against my cheek, and I was reunited with the electricity of his touch. His fingers brushed under my chin, along my neck, across my shoulder, and I was sure I'd lose myself in time and space.

But we were interrupted when a rowdy group of people ran past, shouting to one another, followed by more of them. Henry and I clasped hands, and we walked around to the front of the fun house and up to its ticket taker. "Let's lose ourselves in here for a minute," Henry suggested, and I readily agreed.