The words sound familiar, and suddenly I’m certain he’s amused. He’s playing me. “Laughing at my expense, Jackson? I saw the same show last Thursday night. That theoretical physicist was interviewed, right? I watched it with my dad. But according to the expert, time dilation only accounts for movement forward in time, not back. Nice try. Don’t bullshit a bullshitter.” I play sleight of hand every day of my life, pretending to be like everyone else. I can recognize when I’m being played.

His lips curl in that barely there smile, dark and sardonic and sexy. Why does it make me want to reach over and touch him? I curl my fist to keep from doing exactly that.

“You’re right. I watched the same show, but it could only cover what people know.” The way he says people makes me think he means humans, but he’s being careful like I’m being careful.

“It couldn’t cover what people don’t yet know.” Or what aliens already know.

“It’s a combination of time dilation, mass, gravity, and a positional wormhole.”

I narrow my eyes. “Do you even know the answers? Everything you’re saying could be bullshit.”

“But I make it sound so good you can’t be sure it’s not the truth.”

“Is it?”

He goes quiet, and then shocks me when he reaches out and strokes a strand of my hair back off my cheek. My skin tingles where he’s touched. I want to jerk away. I want to lean closer and ask him to do it again. The rush of confusing emotions takes me by surprise.

“Do answers help?” he asks, and the moment is gone.

I don’t even need to think about it. “No. Especially not when they’re coming from you.”

“Because?”

“Because you aren’t really saying much of anything, and I don’t know if I should believe what you do say.”

“Trust me, the how and why don’t take away the pain.” His tone is cool and even, the words flat. Yet, for some reason, I think he knows a bit about pain.

CHAPTER TEN

JACKSON AND I ARE SIDE BY SIDE, FACING OPPOSITE DIRECTIONS as we swing. We’re quiet. We’ve been quiet for a while. Twenty minutes. Maybe thirty. Oddly, the silence is a comfortable one. I pull out the little water bottle at my waist, take a drink, then hesitate. Cutting him a sidelong glance, I think about his lips on my water bottle, then mine, then his. I look down at my lap and take a slow breath. Then I turn my head and hold the bottle out toward him.

He smiles a little, like he knows what I’m thinking. I feel that smile shimmer through me all the way to my toes. His fingers brush mine as he takes the bottle from my hand. He tips his head back and takes a drink, and I watch the muscles of his throat move as he swallows.

“Thanks,” he says, and hands the bottle back, our fingers brushing once more.

I’m breathing faster than I should be. I’m glad for the excuse to look away as I settle the bottle back in its holder at my waist. Maybe he senses my discomfort and confusion, or maybe he just decides to move. Either way, Jackson gets up from the swing, takes a few steps, and looks around, not nervously or shiftily, more of a casual scan of the area, just like he did back in the lobby. I realize that he did that while we were running, too. He’s always on alert.

“So, can I ask some more questions?”

He turns to face me. “We shouldn’t talk about this here.”

“We already did, so it shouldn’t matter if we do again. Besides, there’s no one else anywhere near us. Who’s listening? The grass?” Frustration punches through my carefully manufactured facade of calm. “And we’d see them coming from a mile away. They’re not exactly easy to miss.” I can’t help but notice how he grows unnaturally still. I rewind what I just said, and a chill crawls across my skin. “We would see them, wouldn’t we?”

“Not necessarily.”

Oh, I did not want to know that. Does he mean that the Drau could be here, right now? I swallow.

“Where can we talk? Is there anywhere safe?”

He paces a few feet, then turns and paces back. It hits me then that cool, icy Jackson Tate isn’t so cool at this moment. “Depends on your definition of safe.” He tips his head back, his face toward the cloudless sky. “Satellites can see you anywhere.”

“Now you’re just trying to freak me out.” Isn’t he? I’m getting nowhere on this topic, so I do a quick switch. “Who were the other people in the clearing?”

“Richelle. Tyrone. Luka.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to say their names.”

“Did I say that?”

I frown and think back. “No, I don’t think you did. I think you just sort of avoided answering. Was that a test?” When he doesn’t answer, I sigh. “Tell me about the people in the other clearings.”

“You see them.” He sounds both pleased and wary. “Not everyone can.”

“Yeah, I figured that out. Luka can’t, but you can, and I can. So who are they?”

“You’d call them other teams.”

“You can use a different word if it makes you feel better. What would you call them?”

“Let’s just say they’re others just like us.”

“Do Luka and Tyrone know there are other teams?”

“In the abstract, yeah. But they’ve never seen them.”

“Why can I see them and they can’t?”