I glance over my shoulder, at the car following close behind us. It’s impossible to see the driver. To tell if it’s Cassian. After a moment, it pulls around and passes us. I sigh.
“Why do I get the feeling that I’m abducting you? Should I be on alert for sirens in the rearview mirror?”
“I left willingly.” I force a grin and tease, “I don’t think you’ll get arrested.”
“Great. You don’t ‘think.’ That’s encouraging.” He gives me a wincing smile. “But maybe not. I am eighteen, after all—”
“You’re eighteen? But you’re a sophomore.”
An uneasy look passes over his face. “I missed a lot of school a few years back. Half of seventh grade and all of eighth, in fact. I was sick.”
“Sick?” I echo. That reminder of his mortality crashes down on me. It’ll always be there, smoke rising between us. Xander had mentioned Will being ill, but I never imagined it as anything serious.
“How? I mean, what . . .”
He shrugs like it’s nothing, but he won’t glance at me. He stares at the road. “Leukemia. But I’m better now. Completely cured.”
“Were you very . . . bad off?”
“For about a year. The prognosis wasn’t—” He stops suddenly, like he’s said too much, and I get that sense again. The feeling that he’s not telling me something. That he’s holding back. A muscle in his jaw ripples with tension. “Look, don’t worry about it. Aren’t I a perfect male specimen now?” He sends me a wink. “Don’t I look healthy?”
I really didn’t like when I found out that Will was actually 18 years old, instead of the 16 that Jacinda was.

Author: Sophie Jordan