It’s after midnight, and the first thing I think—however illogical—is that this must be an April Fools’ joke. I’m about to say as much, but then Teddy lifts his head, and his face is so unexpectedly solemn that I drop onto the steps beside him without a word.

This is the first time we’ve seen each other since our fight, and it’s almost physically painful, being this close to him. The silence between us—usually so comfortable—is now prickly and tentative, and it just about breaks my heart.

I’m sitting only a few inches away from him. But it feels like miles.

“So what happened to Mexico?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything.

He shrugs. “It’s still there.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” I say, attempting a smile, but his face remains impassive. There’s a stillness to him right now that’s disconcerting. Teddy is normally all motion and restless energy; there’s this fast-burning spark inside him that always seems to be just barely contained, like at any minute he might combust. Like at any minute there might be fireworks. But not now. “What about everyone else?”

“They’re still there too.”

I wait for more, and when it doesn’t come I ask, “So why aren’t you?”

“Because,” he says, finally looking at me, “my dad’s back.”

I close my eyes for a second, trying not to telegraph my concern at this news. But there can only be one reason Charlie McAvoy is here, and I know Teddy well enough to know he won’t want to believe it.

“My mom called last night to tell me.”

I nod, still absorbing this. “Is she okay?”

“I think so. I mean, it’s not like they haven’t been in touch at all. But I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for her to open the door and see him there, just totally out of the blue.” He lets out a breath. “He’s coming by again tomorrow morning.”

“To see you?”

He nods. “Is it weird that I’m sort of nervous?”

“Not at all,” I say, wishing there wasn’t so much space between us. “Did she say why he’s here?”

“He’s in town on business. For some meetings, I guess.”

“So you don’t think he’s here—”

“No,” he says before I have a chance to finish. But we both know what I was about to say: because of the money. “He told my mom he didn’t even know about it.”

“Teddy,” I say softly, but he shakes his head.

“He told her he has a real job now,” he says, his tone brisk. “A good job. He hasn’t gambled in almost a year, and he’s been going to meetings every week.”

He already sounds so defensive that there’s nothing to do but drop it. “Okay,” I say, wanting to believe that. But it just feels like too much of coincidence, too big a leap of faith. “It’s good you came home.”

Teddy nods, though I can tell he’s holding something back; then I notice his backpack slumped against a flowerpot, half-hidden in the shadows.

“But you haven’t actually been home yet.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “I got into a cab at the airport, and when he asked where I was going I gave him your address. It was just automatic. I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’ve been thinking about you so much.”

My heart lurches, and it takes everything in me to fight back a surge of hope. I used to think the hardest thing was him not knowing that I loved him. But now, after he dismissed that kiss, I understand there’s something far worse: him not caring. So I do my best to tuck it away again, that feeling of possibility I’ve been carrying around with me for so long. I fold it once, then twice, then again, trying to make it small enough to forget about entirely.

“I feel awful about everything I said that day,” Teddy says, shifting to face me. “It was terrible. All of it. And I’m so sorry. I really hate fighting with you.”

I nod, but what I’m thinking is that I wish I could’ve fallen for someone else. Anyone else. It seems wildly unfair that this had to happen with my best friend, because I still need him for that, and it would be so much easier if these other feelings of mine weren’t quite so tangled up in it.

“Me too,” I say after a moment, and he looks relieved.

“That was a really bad one.”

I nod. “The worst.”

“Let’s never do that again.”

“Deal,” I say, and he leans into me, resting a shoulder against mine so that we’re tipped toward each other like two sides of a triangle. Beneath us, the stone steps are cold, and the small patch of grass in front of the brownstone ripples in the breeze. In the distance, I can hear the screech and pop of a bus, and there’s a siren somewhere not too far away. But here on this block, everything is blue-dark and eerily quiet.

“How long have you been out here?” I ask, and he shrugs.

“I don’t know. A couple hours, maybe. I knocked earlier, and Sofia told me you were out.”

I stare at him. “Why didn’t you just wait inside?”

“I wasn’t planning to stay,” he says. “But I can’t seem to leave.”

Without thinking about it, I reach over and take his hand. It isn’t until he curls his fingers around mine that I realize what I’ve done. But by then we’re knit together again the way we used to be, and the sting of it—of wanting him, of missing him—is replaced by a powerful sense of relief.

There’s still an us. It might not look the way I hoped it would, but there’s something familiar about it, something comforting.

It’s not everything I want, but maybe it’s enough.

Maybe it has to be.

“I know this is such a little-kid thing to say, but I don’t really want to be home when my mom isn’t there,” he says. “Because what if he comes back and things are weird? Or what if he doesn’t? What if he just leaves again? It’s been so long that I’m scared to see him, but I’m also scared not to. Does that make any sense?”

I nod, dropping his hand and picking up the other one, rubbing his frozen knuckles. He inches closer to me and we sit there like that for a long time, not talking. I wish Leo was here, because he’d know exactly what to say. This is the thought that’s running through my head as he walks up, almost as if I’ve conjured him out of thin air, as if this is a brand-new superpower of mine, as if the world has suddenly become a place where you only have to wish for things to make them so.

I’m the first to spot him turning up the path, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and for the second time tonight I’m completely dumbstruck. He looks serious, maybe even a little upset, and my pulse quickens with worry—because he’s supposed to be in Michigan; he’s supposed to be with Max—but then he sees us too, and his face rearranges itself, and he lets out a strange bark of a laugh.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, shooting to my feet as he drops his bag with a thump. But his gaze shifts to Teddy, who looks up at him with a frown.

“What happened to Michigan?” he asks, and Leo shrugs.

“It’s still there. What happened to Mexico?”

“Still there too,” Teddy says with a smile.

I stand there looking from one to the other, then shake my head.

“You two,” I say, and I’m about to continue, to say something more, but I’m so happy to see them, to have all three of us together again—in spite of whatever circumstances there must be—that I simply leave it at that.