“Do you trust me?” I whispered to Tag. A heartbeat later, he’d threaded his fingers through mine. The movement was so smooth and effortless that I needed to pull away and stretch my tingling hand before finding his fingers again. My eyelids fluttered. The moment took me back to a different time—a better time. We took several steps toward the cottage. “Yes, it’s me, Mr. Hill,” I said as if I weren’t shaking in my sneakers. I lifted an arm in greeting, and once Tag and I reached the base of the porch, I noticed our teacher’s disheveled white hair and the red rings around his weathered eyes.
...more
