Watson reached for my hand. "Let me go in first."
"He found us first."
"No," I said. "You're coming with me."
We climbed the porch steps together.
A tall boy stood near the railing, as if he'd been deciding whether to knock or run.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I left the box and walked away. But I heard them laughing out back, and I couldn't leave."
I knew him before he said another word.
"You're coming with me."
"Rowan."
His eyes filled. "I don't know what I'm supposed to call you."
"You don't have to call me anything yet."
He looked at Watson. "Are you angry?"
Watson made a broken sound. "At you? Never."
Rowan looked back at me. "I just needed to know if I was unwanted."
"No." I stepped closer, then stopped. "Can I?"
"Are you angry?"
He nodded.
I touched his cheek with two fingers.
He was warm, real, and breathing.
