Our town is land-locked. There are rivers and streams, lakes and ponds, but to get to the ocean you need to drive to the Long Island Sound off the coast of nearby Connecticut or the beach in Queens or Coney Island.

Sometimes I forget that, though. Travis used to bring me to the lake at his friend’s summer home. The lake was big enough that if I didn’t let my eyes wander to the horizon, sometimes I’d forget I wasn’t at the ocean. If I looked just a little farther, though, I’d remember where I was. I’d remember I was at a lake surrounded by trees, and I’d be able to walk the perimeter of the whole lake in just a few hours if I wanted to.

But I never wanted to. I wanted to stay by Travis’ side, and he’s what made my world feel bigger than it was. If I focused on him, I’d forget that I was just at a small lake. He’d make me feel like I was at the beach and the ocean was there right in front of me. If I could traverse the ocean, I could find myself in another country, another world. He made me believe I could go anywhere, do anything.

When he left, my world became small again. He never reached out to me. I waited. Every day, I went to the mailbox at the end of our driveway and looked for a letter from him. I didn’t look for my name on an envelope, I just looked for his handwriting. I didn’t need to see my name scrawled on the thick white paper with a stamp in the corner. I just needed to see his messy chicken-scratch to know he was thinking of me.

But the letters never came, and there was never a phone call.

But I didn’t reach out to him, either. I could have, but I didn’t.

I don’t know why things changed after his dad left. I don’t know why they had to change. My father started distancing our family from his. It made sense at the time, but now when I think back on it, it feels almost cruel. Maybe my dad made us into bad neighbors. I don’t know. I don’t know what he was thinking. He’d never tell me. All he’d tell me was that Travis wasn’t the kind of boy he wanted me to be with. I can understand why he’d say that now.

He was never in any trouble, not really. But he wasn’t a pillar of the community, either. He drove fast and he smoked and he pulled his curtains closed tight in the morning sometimes. I don’t know what he was doing behind that window, but sometimes I’d watch. I wasn’t looking at anything, but I’d watch, waiting for something to happen.

And he was best friends with Alec. Alec went to our school and lived in a nearby town, but it wasn’t as nice a place as ours. A lot of the homes were older, or worse, newer but foreclosed on. There were a lot of vacant properties. There still are.

It never seemed fair that an accident of birth could trap someone and limit their opportunities. Still, my dad always said it wouldn’t be good for me to get mixed up with any of them. It’s why he wanted me to go to college in the city. It’s why he wanted me to have a career in law enforcement. I wanted the same career, but I thought of it a little differently from the way he did.

I wrap my legs up under me and put my pen and notebook down on my nightstand. I’m trying to schedule my interns for a training session on how to enter parking tickets in our new software system, but I can’t focus. There are too many moving parts because of their conflicting schedules. It would be easier if we could just hire a couple of part-time assistants with reliable hours, but these kids should be given the chance to get some real-world experience.

Still, this can wait for tomorrow. I can’t focus right now.

I get up and pad over to my window.

I thought seeing him again would break me. But it didn’t. I was already broken. There’s nowhere for me to go but up, now. There’s nothing for me to do now but heal.

I still don’t understand why he did what he did.

But he told me I couldn’t have saved him. Still, I don’t know if I believe that.

My curtains are drawn wide open. I can’t see him because his curtains are closed tight. Maybe he isn’t home at all. I peek down to his driveway, where the fall leaves are beginning to pile up. His car is there, but he could be on one of his walks.

I watch his window as his curtains start to sway. A corner peels back, and then I see him slowly open the heavy blue fabric.

He smiles and waves. The boy next door is a criminal now, but I can’t help my heart from beating a little bit faster.

If I believed my dad, I’d have thought he was always a criminal. Maybe he just hadn’t been caught yet.

I feel my cheeks heat as I wave back softly. I want to cover myself up, grab my robe from my bed and throw it around myself, but I don’t. All I’m wearing is a little pair of shorts and a tank top, but I want him to see. I want him to see me, just as much as I want to see him.

Swallowing thickly, I step forward toward the window sill.

I can keep telling myself that he’s the same person he was a year ago, but when I see him across our yards now, I realize that he isn’t. The realization comes to me all at once, and strangely, it makes him seem all the more attractive. He says nothing, and just waves again. It seems silly, almost, the way he is waving to me. It’s the kind of thing you do when you’re just saying hello to someone for the first time. We said our hellos so long ago, and I don’t even remember the first time we met.

His smile has changed. There’s a sadness there. His lips perk up at the corners, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Those blue eyes...they’re still the same. I can see them from here. They’re illuminated in the moonlight, and even though I can’t see the flecks of gold laced through them, I know the glow is still there. I haven’t had a chance to gaze into his eyes and look for all the answers to my questions yet. I need to, though. I crave it. Just like I crave his body and his lips and his mind. And his words...all of him.

I never stopped. I never stopped dreaming of him; I never stopped loving him. I know he didn’t stop thinking about me, either.

But I still have those questions. I have the questions that make me mad, and angry, and made me feel crazy all at once. The questions that confuse and vex me, that I feel I have the answers to somewhere deep inside me.

I could search his eyes for the answers. But his eyes are different now, and I don’t know if I can find the answers on my own anymore. I need his help. I need him to use his words to help me find what I’m looking for.

My heart is racing, and when I realize it, my fingers come up to my lips. He smirks and looks down, and when he does, the muscles in his chest flex. He might not know exactly what I’m thinking, but he knows what I’m feeling.

Hell, I don’t even know what I’m thinking. All I know is that I still want him.

I still want him…

He disappears from the window as he slowly walks off to the side, and I groan to myself as I hear my phone ding. I walk over to grab it from my bed, hoping for and dreading a text from him all at the same time.

Let me take you for a drive, the text from Travis says.

Where are you going to take me? I shoot back.

I see him come back to the window. He has his backpack on and his army green jacket his father bought him from the army surplus supply store years ago before one of the hiking trips I went on with his family.

He doesn’t reply to my text. Instead, he disappears again and I see the light inside his room flicker off.

I still have so many questions I need answered. And he’s starting off by not even responding to my very simple question.

Where is he going to take me?

Following him into the dark would be a risk. I don’t know if I can take that risk. But I feel that energy bubbling up from the edges of something deep inside me.

I quickly pull my shorts off and pull on a pair of jeans and a hoodie lying on the corner of my bed. Grabbing my purse, I give a quick look behind me as I leave my room and flick the light off. I could stay here forever and be safe, and not follow him. I could let all of my questions go unanswered, and it wouldn’t matter if I ever found out the truth.

Exhaling shakily, I make my way downstairs. I check to see if Mom and Dad are home, but they aren’t. I don’t know where they run off to so much these days, but I’m glad they aren’t home. I don’t like lying, and I’d tell them I was going to Sarah’s house if they asked where I was going. In fact, I’d probably just volunteer that information without them even asking.

It would be for me, though. The lie would be to protect myself.

Because even though he’s back, I still don’t know if I can do this.

I needed him a year ago. I needed to know the truth then.

But I can’t risk not knowing. I can’t risk not learning the truth.

I can’t risk letting him walk away from me again.