3

Trees blurred at the edge of the floodlight, a flash of green-and-yellow swing set. Violet tilted her head back. Even the stars and the clouds rotated, high in the inky sky. She tried to focus on Austin as he raced the merry-go-round, pushing it faster and faster. The floodlight made a halo around his blond head. His calves flexed with the effort of running the merry-go-round into motion, and Violet’s heart galloped.

Austin jumped up onto the platform and clung to one of the metal handlebars. Violet pushed aside thoughts of where she’d been less than an hour ago. Measuring Khloe’s sleeping breaths beside her, then wincing at the sliding sound of the window in the track. If only she could tell Khloe everything, but … no.

She and Austin spun and spun, bent nearly double, then straightened as the ride’s momentum spent itself. They crept to a standstill, but the trees continued to spin. She leaned on the handlebar at the same time Austin did, and his arm branded hers. Just arms, but the heat rushed all the way to the back of her neck.

Austin staggered a dizzy step back, and the grin took over his face. Not a grin, the grin. The one that curled her toes.

Maybe he would want more tonight.

Violet wobbled one step back and nearly fell off the merry-go-round. Everything tilted and whirled. Austin’s hand shot out to catch her, and his other hand netted her shoulder. Now neither of them gripped the handlebar for balance. They half tumbled onto the weathered wooden platform. Violet pushed herself off him, except … no point in that. When he propped up on his elbows, she wrapped an arm around his back and smiled.

“Violet, we can’t even see straight.”

“Whatever.”

His lips found her chin, coffee and butterscotch on his breath. Violet leaned in and bumped her head on the handlebar.

“Ow. Wait.”

He pulled back. “What?”

“Nothing, just—this.” She ducked the bar and pressed her lips to his.

The world slowed its spinning while Austin’s long fingers glided from her hair, to her cheek, down to her neck. They caught in the loose gather of her peasant-neck top. They tugged the mauve cotton down an inch at a time, until Austin’s breath tickled the bareness of her shoulder.

Violet’s face flushed. She slid her lips along his jaw the way he’d taught her, and her heart cartwheeled. She slung her legs across his lap and angled toward him. His lips traveled. She raised her arms, an invitation, and her shirt came up, over her head. He tossed it aside. The humid night stuck to her skin. She fumbled behind her for the bra clasp.

“Mmm, no.” Austin stilled her fingers with his. “Don’t.”

“We could—”

“Not out here.”

When his hands fumbled downward, Violet pressed closer. Yes. Tonight. But he turned away seconds later.

Humiliation warmed her face now. She gripped the merry-go-round’s handlebar, hoisted herself off his lap, and jumped down. Her top lay in a wrinkled heap in the grass. She shook it out and slid it over her head.

“Violet.”

“It’s fine. I get it.” You don’t want me.

He curled his hands around the edge of the merry-go-round’s platform, a ring of metal that held the old boards in place. It and the handlebars had been painted and repainted over the decades, the last a coat of bright blue that was starting to wear away.

Austin let out a sound halfway between a moan and a growl. “You’re seventeen, babe.”

“I should’ve said I was twenty.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

She would, though. If she could go back to the moment he asked. She sat down next to him on the merry-go-round and trailed a finger down his arm. “What’s a month or two?”

“Or three.”

Good grief, why couldn’t he be one of those boyfriends who forgot birthdays? “You really want to stay like this for three months.”

“Yes. I want to. Although you make it almost impossible.”

Well, that was something, anyway. She wasn’t completely undesirable. She tried to hide her smile.

“Violet, I mean it.”

His lips feathered on her temple, and her whole body quivered. She settled a hand on his chest. They sat for a minute, as close as Austin would let them be. For now. She snuggled into him, and his hand cupped the back of her head.

“I bet you put it in writing somewhere. ‘Both parties must be legal adults before certain activities are allowed.’ And then a list with bullet points.”

Austin chuckled. “You could try appreciating my restraint. I am a guy, after all.”

Love shouldn’t be ruled by the stupid calendar. She pressed her palm into his chest, and he sighed.

“Babe, I want to do this right.” He withdrew the embrace, leaned back on his hands, and tilted his head toward the sky. “You said you wanted to talk tonight. What’s the hundred-dollar topic?”

Fine. They could talk. She did want to, just … later. She kicked her wedges away from her and inhaled the scent of fresh-cut grass and geraniums. “I have two questions. Mammoth-sized.”

“Fire away.”

Nerves stiffened her shoulders. How stupid. She could ask Austin anything. Still, easy question first. “Do they pay you to lead small group at Elysium, and if they do, do you want to do that forever? Or do you have another goal, and what is it?”

“That’s … four questions, I think.”

“Four facets, one question.”

“Hmm. Let’s see. No, they do not pay me. If they did, I’d still have other goals in addition to leading small group. The first being a doctorate in philosophy.”

“That’s a ton of school.”

“Exactly.”

“Why philosophy?” She swung her feet in an alternating rhythm and joined his stargazing. So many pinpoints of light, peeking down at Earth for millennia.

“I want to understand people. What makes them believe certain things or act certain ways. And I want to be able to teach them the right way to believe.”

“Like you do now, at church?”

A breeze wafted over them but didn’t cool the air. “Yeah, like that. But with more education, I’ll be more effective.”

“Will you be allowed to read the original Bible translations? Since your degree’s in philosophy?”

Austin nodded.

“I think that’s an amazing dream.” And the perfect transition to her second question, if she could spit it out.

Austin shrugged, but his eyes settled on her, and he smiled. “If number one had four facets, I’m afraid to ask about number two.”

Violet ran her thumb over the silver shark fin fastened to his wrist with a black leather cord. When she gave him the charm off her bracelet, he’d said the cord would keep it from looking like girl’s jewelry.

“Violet?”

Just ask. Out here, nestled close on a kiddie ride washed in floodlight, even the crickets and cicadas wouldn’t hear her words. Still, her lips froze.

“Come on.” Austin nudged her shoulder. “You can ask whatever you want.”

“It’s a … a theoretical question.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Suppose … for the sake of discussion … a person knew someone for a long time without knowing something dangerous about them and then discovered it. And this thing could hurt other people … and maybe the police really should know about it … except if they did, that would affect another person too. Maybe hurt them.”

Maybe make them suicidal. Not literally. Khloe was the world’s best exaggerator. But still.

The pansy charm seemed to burn Violet’s wrist. She burrowed against Austin’s arm for courage. “Would the person who discovered this thing be … obligated to report it?”

Austin stood up and reached down a hand. “Let’s walk a bit.”

She let him tug her to her feet. They retrieved their flashlights and Violet’s purse and shoes from the ground, then meandered to the concrete walking path. Austin followed its direction but stayed on the grass. Beneath the choir of cicadas, a bullfrog thrummed a one-note bass. A pond rested beyond the tree line.

The silence sweated from Violet’s pores and dripped down her back. She shouldn’t have asked, even abstractly.

“I think the answer lies in the results of each possibility,” Austin finally said.

“Okay,” she said. “In the first possibility, someone goes to re-, um, jail.”

Austin’s feet froze on the path. “You should have said re-education, to begin with. That changes the question.”

Violet glanced up at him. Contemplation creased around his mouth and between his blond eyebrows. Ambling through the dark, garbed in a scholar’s scowl, he looked older than twenty-one. How did she look to him?

“So you know a Christian.”

“Um … I … might.” She traced a five-point star with her flashlight. The beam swung up, down, across, back.

“The answer’s yes. It’s your duty to report them.”

“But, Austin, this person’s not dangerous. They’d never hurt anyone. They’re just … messed up when it comes to God.”

“Are you hearing yourself? Violet, some Christians live quiet, legal lives for years and then one day walk out their door, buy a firearm at Walmart, and go on a shooting spree.”

She almost laughed at the image of Clay toting a tommy gun like a 1930s gangster. But if that reality lurked in his head for real …

“Re-education would help this person,” she said.

“Would save this person,” Austin said. “Maybe save others.”

He resumed walking along the sidewalk, beneath maple trees whose leaves barely whispered in the still, hot night. They circled the whole track, back to the merry-go-round. Austin perched on the edge of the platform, but Violet’s legs folded before she got there. She sank to the damp grass.

“I don’t know how,” she said.

“How?” Austin propped his elbows on his knees.

“You know, how to report someone. Who to call. I know the emergency number for the con-cops”—of course, everyone knew the universal number: three digits, like 911—“but this isn’t that kind of emergency, and anyway, I don’t have proof, unless I go to the meeting.”

Austin’s eyes seemed to drill right into her brain. “You got invited to a Christian meeting?”

What must he think of her? A Christian would trust only his closest friends with an invitation like that … probably only his Christian friends. “It’s not like that, Austin, really. I just have to go. Or maybe I shouldn’t.”

“No, you shouldn’t.” Austin sprang up from the merry-go-round and dropped to his knees in front of Violet. “I should.”

“What are you talking about?”

“A buddy of mine is a field agent with the Constabulary. He’s spent half a year trying to find this network that’s hiding Christians. Nobody can figure out who they are, how they know each other, how they communicate, but you—you got an invitation.”

A sudden breeze slithered over Violet’s arms. “I don’t think it’s like that. I think it’s just some people meeting for … well, for church.”

“We need to find out. Somehow.”

He was right. She could make a difference. “I’ll go. I’ll find out where they meet.”

And report them. Report Clay. If she could.

“Not you. It’s too risky,” Austin said.

“I think my friend would notice if you go in my place.”

He huffed and raked his fingers through his hair.

“I’ll play along, Austin. They won’t do anything to me.”

His mouth crimped, and he closed his eyes. When he opened them, the frown remained, but his eyes shone with … respect, maybe. For her.

“I’ll give you my buddy’s work number. As soon as you get there, find a way to text the address to him. He can send in a team to bust them.”

“Okay. See, it’ll be fine.”

“Wherever they meet, you don’t go inside. Come up with whatever excuse you have to, but stay out.”

“Right.”

He huffed again. “This is madness.”

Ever the scholar. Her lips tugged into a smile. She ducked her head and twisted blades of grass around her fingers. One of them snapped. A mosquito landed in the crook of her arm, and she smacked it.

“Do you know,” he said, “sometimes you amaze me.”

“Because I killed a mosquito?”

“Because you’re willing to do something like this. You’ve got this … this tough thread, running under the softness.”

No, she didn’t. But this mission didn’t require toughness. It only required love.

The Hansens would hate her when they found out.

Maybe they didn’t have to. Ever.

Austin enclosed her in his arms. “We have to plan this out.”

“Didn’t we just do that?”

“I want you to know exactly what you’re doing before you get there.”

“Are you going to teach me kung fu or something?”

His lips moved over her hair. “If only I knew kung fu or something.”

“I’ll be careful. The most careful I’ve ever been in my life.”

“That doesn’t make it—”

“Talk later.” She kissed him and, with each breathless second, resolved to do her duty. Duty to Clay, to Austin’s Constabulary friend. To the group of dangerous, misguided people who needed help. Khloe, I have to. For the good of everyone. Violet would wear the pansy charm on her wrist forever, a pledge of silence to herself.

“It’s the right thing,” she whispered against Austin’s mouth.

“I know.”

Austin lowered her to the soft grass. Yes. Through her clothes, his hands surveyed her body as if he hadn’t already mapped most of it. Please want me.

“Violet.”

She kissed the thumb that traced her mouth.

Austin lowered his head to the crook of her neck, and his sigh warmed her collarbone. “Three months, babe.”