Page 44

It was cold. True winter.

The air couldn’t hold moisture at this temperature; snow swirled on the ground like dust.

Hollis was wearing his coat from two years ago. It was plaid, knit, and ugly as sin. He had the mittens Annie made and the hat Yulia bought him just after they met, and they just barely kept him from shivering.

The streetlights stretched his shadow in shades of orange and gray.

Hollis saw Walt from a distance.

He was six blocks down, directly in the center of the road. His blond hair white in the dark. He was staring up at the sky, head tilted back far enough that he had his arms out for balance.

It felt still, like it did when they first met.

The wind grew quiet. The whole neighborhood was frozen.

Hollis’s heart slammed against his ribs as he gazed at Walt, and he thought—for just a second—about turning around and running back home.

As if Walt could hear the moment Hollis’s brain produced that thought, his head turned quick.

Hollis stopped walking.

Walt grinned at him.