"You know your way from here?" he asked.
"Of course I do," I said, slightly insulted.
Henry just shook his head and smiled, the first real smile I'd seen since meeting him again. "It's not like you have the greatest sense of direction," he said. I opened my mouth to protest this, and he went on, "I just had to help you find your way out of the woods."
He looked at me evenly for a moment, then added, "And it wasn't even the first time." Then he turned and walked away, leaving me to try and figure out what he meant.
A moment later, when he'd passed out of sight, it hit me. The first time we'd met had been in these very same woods. As I walked home, shielding my eyes against the sun, so bright after the darkness of the woods. I realized that I'd been so caught up in thinking about how things with him had ended, I'd almost forgotten how they had begun.
p. 70
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