So Winnie simply says, “How about neither of us apologize, then?” Jay’s muscles soften a little more. Enough so that she can gently pry the arrow from his grasp and drop it to the sunlit earth. And enough so that she spies her chance to crack a joke. Something the old Jay would have laughed at. Something to diffuse the final tension stretched between them. “So is this one of your make-out spots, Jay?” He stares at Winnie for several seconds, incomprehension dulling his eyes to brushed steel. Then he laughs—a sound that is brimming over with the boy Winnie once knew. “Oh shit, Winnie.” He
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