Okay, so we finally have some movement of the Oliver-and-Felicity variety in this chapter - I know it's been kind of a slow build up till now. Sorry for the delay in getting this up, and thanks as ever for reading!

Once the detectives were done with me, they had me send Oliver in. He looked at me for a second as he was passing, searching my face for some clue to what had just happened, but thankfully he didn't ask any questions. I'm not sure what I would have said if he had. Once he was in the study with the detectives, I actually debated listening through the door for about two minutes. If Quentin hadn't been there, looking much more cop-like than lawyer-y, I probably would have.

As it was, though, with Quentin watching over me all I could do was pace. The detectives only questioned Oliver for a few minutes, much less time than I'd been in there, and they both looked frustrated when he emerged from the study. Oliver seemed carefully blank, giving absolutely nothing away when his eyes met mine outside the door.

We remained in the hallway, Oliver and me standing close but not looking at each other, while Quentin and the police wrapped things up.

"I think at this point you've talked to pretty much everyone," Quentin told Drake. She frowned.

"That's our call, not yours," she said. "We actually still need to interview Dr. Willa McLaren. Where can we find her?"

Quentin looked surprised – and not in a good way. "What do you need to talk to her for? She wasn't there when the shooting took place."

"But she knows the island," Drake said calmly. "This is a murder investigation now, Mr. Lance. You were a cop once – you know how this goes."

"Yeah, of course," he agreed, though he didn't look pleased. "She's at the hospital now, though. She went with Thea, since she's the family physician."

"And how long has she been with the Merlyn family?" Detective Malone asked. I noticed that Oliver had tensed at the line of questioning, and wondered exactly where they were going with this.

"I don't know – about three years or so?" Quentin said, looking at Oliver.

"About that, yes," Oliver agreed.

"And how did she come to work for the Merlyns?" Drake asked. "I mean – she's Scottish, right? And not exactly at the top of her field. Not the first person you'd think of to oversee the medical needs of one of the most prominent families in America."

"I recommended her," Oliver said stiffly.

"How did you know the doctor?" Malone asked. He wasn't nearly as friendly with Oliver as he had been with me, I noticed.

"Our families are from the same region of Scotland," Oliver said.

"Inverness?" Malone pressed. "Funny, you don't have much of an accent."

"I moved to America years ago," Oliver said. "The accent faded."

"And remind me how many years ago that was," Drake said. "We weren't able to find much on you, it turns out."

"I'm sorry, I thought you had finished with our interview," Oliver said. His eyes were cold, his manner impassive. He was already an intimidating man, but he seemed that much more so when his eyes went dead like this.

"You didn't give us much when we spoke," Malone said. Yikes. Yeah, Detective Malone definitely liked me better than Oliver. That wouldn't be hard, though; the way the two men had squared off, I was guessing Malone would take a rattlesnake over Oliver.

"I told you what I know about the shooting," Oliver said. "I'm not clear on what these other questions have to do with finding the person who murdered Reggie Merlyn this afternoon."

"We decide what's relevant, Mr. Knight," Malone said. He took a step toward Oliver, and didn't even look intimidated at the way Oliver glared at him. Which was impressive, I thought. I was intimidated, and Oliver wasn't even looking at me.

"I think I'll take that as a cue that whatever else you have to ask me, I'd like you to do through my lawyer," Oliver said He looked at Quentin, who nodded.

"Absolutely," Quentin said. "I represent Ms. Smoak and Mr. Knight. If you've got questions for them, you can contact me from here on out."

"That's an interesting choice for people who say they want justice," Drake said.

I started to argue that point, but a look from Quentin made me stop. When no one took the bait, Malone and Drake exchanged another loaded glance before they packed up their things and – finally – headed out.

The second they were out the door, I grabbed Oliver's arm and hauled him back toward the study.

"I need to talk to you," I said through gritted teeth.

"When you two are through," Quentin said, "we should have a conversation, too. I need to have some idea what the story is in all this before I go talking to the cops about it, or else I'll end up—"

"We'll make sure you're not disbarred," Oliver said, cutting him off. "We just stick to the truth." He hesitated. "Mostly."

Quentin kind of laughed at that, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, sure – that's great. In that case, I'm not worried about being disbarred so much as being thrown in the loony bin."

"We'll figure it out," Oliver said. He sounded a lot more reassuring than I felt at the moment. He nodded to the study, indicating I should go in first. How the hell could he be so calm?

The second the door was closed, I turned on him.

"What don't I know about Ray Palmer?" I demanded, straight out of the gate.

"You need to be more specific," he said coolly. "The man's been alive since 1898. I'm guessing there are a lot of things you don't know about him."

"Don't get cute," I said, advancing on him until we were barely a foot away. "You know what I'm talking about. The police said he's suspected of being involved in a whole bunch of thefts of occult artifacts. What's that about? Is he still a thief? I thought he just made video games and lived up in his mansion trying to figure out how to break the curse – nobody ever mentioned that he's actively still a criminal."

"Ray is his own man," Oliver said. "I barely saw him for years. That changed when I started working for the Merlyns, but not by that much. He has a busy life that has nothing to do with me."

"Bullshit," I said. Oliver's eyebrows went up in surprise.

"Excuse me?" he asked, his eyes flashing with anger.

"You heard me," I bit back, refusing to back down. "You two have something going on – there's something you're not telling me about this whole curse thing or whatever it's going to take to undo it or…something. If he's stealing occult artifacts, does that mean he's into the same stuff that Damian Dahrk is into? Is that the real reason he and Rose tried to steal the butterfly stone?"

"I think you need to have a conversation with Ray about all this," Oliver said. He was cool again, which only served to make me madder. "I don't know the answer to a lot of your questions; the ones I can answer, I don't think it's my place to."

"Why not?" I demanded. "You're in this whole thing, right? You were cursed right alongside Ray and Rose – which reminds me, why were you cursed too? What were you doing at the train station that night? How did Rose know you – how were you there to save her when she got shot, when Ray wasn't?"

"It's a long story."

"Yeah, I get that – and I don't care. Trust me, I don't think I'll be bored. How did you and Ray meet?"

The words were barely out of my mouth before I heard a knock in the distance, at the front door. I jumped half a foot, heart leaping to my throat.

"Will you calm down?" Oliver said, for the first time starting to lose patience.

"Easy for you to say," I hissed. "How long have you known about all this stuff? I just get used to one insane secret, and a dozen others are dropped on my head."

"So maybe it's not such a great idea for me to tell you about still more of them," he countered. Touché. I grimaced.

"I can handle it, Oliver."

He sighed. Before he could actually tell me anything, however, there was another knock at the door – this time, the study door. Even Oliver jumped this time, then swore under his breath. "I'm getting as bad as you are."

"Excuse me, Miss Felicity," Raisa said as she opened the door. "But there is someone here to see you."

Someone she wasn't happy about, based on the frown lines and the added darkness to her already-black-eyes.

"Someone…who?" I asked.

"I know you asked me to wait until tomorrow, Oliver," Ray said from behind Raisa, breezing past her and into the study like he owned the place. "But given everything we're up against, I thought it might be a good idea to get a jumpstart on things. I'm sure you're on the same page about that, aren't you, Felicity?" he asked me.

I just stared at him for a second, blinking stupidly. All I could think of were the things the detectives had said about him. He'd been involved in the thefts back in the 1920s, but what had he been doing since then? Could he possibly be at fault for the deaths Detective Drake mentioned?

Before I could ask a single question, Ray made his way across the small room with his eyes locked on mine, and took my hand as soon as he was close enough. I tried to back away, but he held fast.

"What the hell are you doing?" Oliver demanded.

"Miss Felicity!" Raisa said.

And then, they vanished.

We need muscle for this, Rose, Ray said. They were outside – we were outside – somewhere that definitely was not Crab's Neck. The sky was gray, an endless expanse of moors all around them. As all my visions had been since this morning, this was crystal clear. I've been checking up on this guy, Ray continued. He's good. He can help us. With a job this big, there's no way we can do it alone. And besides, he knows Dahrk. He'll be able to get us in.

He's a Neanderthal, Rose said coolly. I don't care who recommends him – we don't know anything about him.

Just meet him, Ray insisted.

Do I have a choice?

Don't be like that, he said. He touched her face, his dark eyes taking her in, and I was lost for a moment at the pure adoration I saw there. He worshipped her. You know I'll do whatever you want me to. Say the word, and I'll tell him no. We'll figure out another way. You asked me for the stone, and I've already told you, Rosie: ask for the moon, and I'll lay it at your feet.

She smiled at him, the same adoration reflected back. She might be a spoiled brat, but there was no question in my mind that Rose's feelings for Ray were one hundred percent genuine. All right, fine. I'll meet him. But I make no promises beyond that.

He grinned at her. That's all I ask.

He stepped aside, and I gasped.

Oliver appeared on the hillside, striding toward them in dirty trousers and a stained shirt. His hair was longer, pulled back in a ponytail, but otherwise there was no question… This was definitely the man I knew.

Rose, meet Oliver Knight, Ray said. Oliver stopped a few feet from the two of them, clearly uncertain. I studied his eyes in the vision – this was the first chance I'd had to get a good look at him. They were the clear blue that I knew, but there was something different about them. Something both lighter and darker at the same time; the kind of man who knew how to have a good time, but already had his demons. What were those demons, I wondered?

"Felicity!" Oliver said, back in the present.

I shook my head as the study, the present, came rushing back to me.

Raisa was gone, and I was seated on an overstuffed loveseat in the corner of the room, Oliver beside me. Ray was on the other side of the room, and he didn't look happy about that.

"I'm all right," I said.

"What did you see?" Ray asked immediately. He advanced on me again, despite a warning look from Oliver. "The visions should be clearer now, and Dahrk gave me some ideas for how we can guide them more effectively to get the information we need."

I shook my head, trying to get my wits about me once more.

"Take it easy," Oliver said soothingly, shooting one of his killer looks at Ray. "We don't have to rush this."

"We do, actually," Ray said. He stepped forward despite the look on Oliver's face, his focus on me. "I know Oliver's convinced you're made of glass, but we can't afford that kind of fragility right now. If you want to survive, we need to start working on this now."

"I'm fine," I said, sitting up.

"What did you see?" Ray pressed.

"We – I mean, you and Rose… Um, I think you were in Scotland. It was the first time you introduced Rose to Oliver."

He studied me a moment, with an intensity that made me uneasy. "Interesting," was all he said, however. "Anything else?"

"No, that was it."

"We need to find some things that might trigger specific memories," he said. "Photos, mementos from the past…"

"There's a family archive," I said immediately.

"Hang on," Oliver said. He stepped between us, and Ray shot him a killing glare. "I already told you, it's been a long day after an even longer night. If we're going to do this tonight, at least let her get some food first."

"He's right," I said. I think those two words shocked Oliver more than anything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, but I wasn't about to become some mindless bimbo who needed someone to tell her what to eat and when to sleep. "I haven't eaten since breakfast, and this kind of thing requires energy. Just let me grab something, and we can go to the library and look through the family archives afterward. Okay?"

Ray frowned. "Have you eaten?" I asked him. "I mean – I know you guys are immortal or whatever, but you still get hungry, right? Raisa cooks when she's stressed out, and I'm guessing after today she's been whipping up a storm in there."

"You want me to stay for dinner?" Ray asked doubtfully.

Oliver looked equally skeptical.

"It's not like anyone from the Merlyn family will be here," I argued. "I mean, apart from me. So… What do you say?"

"I've never actually been invited to dinner at the Merlyn home before."

"Not in a hundred and twenty years?" I asked. The thought made me sad. "Well, you're invited now. I'll just go tell Raisa to set an extra place."

I left the two men, pausing outside the door to see if they might say something I wasn't supposed to hear. I know: eavesdropping is tacky, but you try being cursed to die with two gorgeous hundred-plus-year-old fellow curse-ees by your side, and tell me you don't get a little desperate for clues. Ray started to say something, but Oliver shushed him immediately. Spoilsport.

Raisa had indeed been cooking the holy bejeezus out of Merlyn Manor. Pot roast with carrots, onions, and potatoes – the smell alone was enough to make my mouth water. After everything that had happened over the course of the weekend, you would think I wouldn't have the stomach to eat a thing, but tonight I was ravenous. I wondered briefly if that was a side effect of Damian Dahrk's intervention, and secretly hoped not. I can pack on the pounds perfectly well on my own, thanks very much – I don't need a wizard tipping the scales.

Willa had stuck around as well, which made for a respectable showing in the Merlyn dining room. I sat at the head of the table tonight at Quentin's insistence, while Quentin and Willa sat together at one side, Ray and Oliver on the other. For an ancient billionaire, Ray seemed kind of awed by the grandeur of the room. He kept looking around, asking about different pieces of furniture or works of art. Quentin knew the answers to most of his questions, so I was content to let them talk.

About halfway through the meal, however, conversation began to lag. There was a white rhino in the room that no one seemed willing to address, but I've never been very good at not saying the one thing everyone wants unsaid.

"Sooo…Quentin," I began. "How did you and Willa happen to start talking about…um…"

Willa and Quentin both looked like I'd just asked whether Quentin was into light spanking, while Oliver just grimaced. Ray, however, looked up with interest.

"Yes, Quentin. How did you and Willa start talking about that?"

"Well, uh…" Quentin glanced at Willa, and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I knew something was up, what with you looking exactly like your father and your grandfather and everybody just kind of disappearing once they hit thirty, but I guess I probably wouldn't have figured it out if Willa—"

"I told him," Willa said abruptly. And then, she totally blew my mind by leaning over and kissing him – right on the mouth. "We'd been shagging for a good few months and I kept it to myself, but then after Moira and Robert were killed, I just decided I'd had enough of secrets."

Quentin went a little red, though somehow he still managed to look pleased at the same time.

"You don't have to look so shocked," Willa said to me. "Surely a pretty lass like yourself knows what it's like. Lies are fine if you're just sharin' your bed with a lout who'll be gone next morning, but it seemed to me we were past that."

"Sure," I said with a sage nod, though I didn't actually have the first idea what it was like. "I'm not shocked. I think it's great – you and Quentin, I mean. I didn't realize anything was going on between you." I looked at Oliver. "Did you know?"

He shrugged. "There have been a few times when I came in and could have timed it better – Willa with her shirt half off and her skirt up around her waist told a pretty clear story."

Quentin shot daggers at Oliver with his eyes, but Willa just laughed. "Too true. After all these years on the planet, you'd think you'd be better at knockin'."

"What do you intend to do with the information?" Ray asked, interrupting the banter.

Quentin shrugged. "I don't know that I intend to do anything. I've known for going on a month now, and so far all I've done is question my sanity a few times. Other than that, I got no intentions at all."

"That's good," Ray said. He managed one of those genial smiles he was so good at. "Then, I guess our little circle is expanding."

"It looks that way," Oliver agreed.

Silence fell after that, and this time hung around in fits and starts until the end of the meal. When dinner was done, Ray, Oliver, and I went to the library after only a brief discussion. My mind was racing until the moment when I got through the thick oak door, and the smell of old books and aged leather enveloped me. I loved that room. I closed my eyes, breathing it in.

"This is beautiful," Ray said reverently.

"It is," I agreed – which didn't seem like bragging since I had nothing to do with it.

I opened my eyes, and took in the sight. It was a huge space, with vaulted ceilings and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, little nooks with comfy chairs, and – my favorite – a windowseat overlooking the grounds. On sunny days, I could settle on that seat and happily stay for hours. I was sure my Merlyn ancestors had done exactly that; I could feel it every time I sat there, sun warming my face, listening to the chatter of my fellow butterfly girls.

"You've never been here before?" I asked Ray, pulling myself from my thoughts.

He wandered among the bookshelves, his hand trailing along the spines. "No," he said. "When I was with Rose, I wasn't exactly welcome in this place. My grandfather worked in the stables, so that was bad enough; Byron Merlyn wasn't the kind of man to welcome the help into his home." He shrugged. "The fact that my father was a thief made him doubly determined to keep me away from his daughter."

The reminder of Ray's father made me think of what the detectives had said. Was he still a thief, as they'd said? I started to ask him, but clamped my mouth shut at a warning look from Oliver. Ray glanced between the two of us, sensing the tension. The briefest of frowns touched his lips before it vanished.

"It's getting late," Oliver said. "We should probably get started."

It was only eight o'clock, but I knew I would have an early morning the next day, and everything that had happened was finally starting to wear me down. I nodded.

"You're probably right. So – how do we do this?"

"The archives?" Ray prompted.

"Right."

I turned toward a nook in the far back. Oliver started to follow, but Ray stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"Why don't you give us a little time?" he suggested. "I think it will be better if there are no distractions."

Oliver frowned, and Ray turned his familiar brown eyes on me. You know I'll never hurt you, Rose, I heard him promise, another echo from the past.

"It's all right," I told Oliver. Despite the reassurances of that past Ray, I couldn't ignore the apprehension I felt when Oliver walked away. He hesitated at the library door, his hand hovering at the knob.

"If you need anything…"

"She'll be fine," Ray said.

I nodding, indicating that he should go. A moment later, Ray and I were alone.

"He's certainly taking his job seriously with you," Ray said. The tone was light enough, but there was something underlying it that made me tense. "You should watch out – Oliver's been known to be quite the charmer. Women always seem to like all that brooding – I never really understood why. But someone like you, Felicity…"

He shifted so that we were facing one another, his eyes lingering on my face. "He could do a lot of damage to someone as trusting as you. Be careful. It looks like both of you are getting a bit…attached."

"There's nothing between us," I said automatically. As soon as the words were out, I regretted them; they sounded defensive, and patently untrue. Ray touched my face. My eyes sank shut at his touch, a memory surging up from the depths.

There's nothing between us, Ray, Rose said. She was older now, maybe all of twenty, dressed in a knee-length blue dress, her hair in a bob.

So you keep saying, Ray replied. He turned to face her, and fear ran through me – cold and pure, jagged-edged. Not my fear, though – Rose's.

You wouldn't be the first to fall for his looks. That fake smile, the bedroom-blue eyes. Oliver has more admirers than I can count, Rose.

Oliver is married, she told him coolly. And even if that weren't the case, I'm not one of those admirers. You're my husband – I love you. Once this job is finished, I want nothing to do with him.

In an instant, Ray's face changed in the vision. The smile returned, and with it the warmth to his brown eyes. Good. I'm sorry for suspecting anything, Rose. You know I would do anything for you.

The vision faded. I opened my eyes to find myself seated at the book nook, Ray watching me anxiously.

"What did you see?" he asked immediately.

I wanted to ask about Oliver – about the revelation that he'd been married. Something warned me that would be the wrong thing to say, though. "I saw you and Rose," I said after a second. "You were arguing about Oliver."

He hesitated. I thought he would be angry; I tensed, in fact, preparing for the reaction. Instead, he broke into a grin. "Triggered by the conversation we were having, then. You went straight to that scene?"

"I – yeah," I said with a nod. "I guess so."

He straightened, and walked away. "That's good – it's excellent, actually. We can look through the archives, but ultimately I'm not sure they'll be necessary. What we need isn't something to bring you back to your childhood – we need something that will bring you back to that night in Inverness."

"Their childhood," I corrected. He looked confused. "You said, 'What we need isn't something to bring you back to your childhood.' But it's not my childhood – I'm not any of those girls." I studied him. "You do know that, right?"

Something flickered in his eyes. Anger? Disappointment? I couldn't read it, and then it was gone and he smiled his smooth, easy grin once more. "Of course. It's just hard keeping it all straight, that's all. But I know exactly who you are, Felicity. You never need to worry about that."

We shifted to the archives from there, but Ray was right - all they triggered were scenes from the girls' childhoods. At first, the visions seemed to make sense: look at a photo of Winnie, and something related to her and that particular photo would appear. But as I got more and more tired, the visions became less clear, less linear.

At just past ten o'clock, my eyes bleary and my back sore, I paused at a photo of Mara Merlyn. It was near the end of her life, a picture taken of her grinning from the back of a gorgeous chestnut mare.

I closed my eyes.

You can't tell anyone, Mara whispered. I was in my bedroom – her bedroom, at the time. She lay in bed with her sister in the dark – Moira. My mother. Daddy will kill me.

Daddy should kill you, Moira hissed. I felt the warmth of the blankets, the closeness of our secrets, and stared into my mother's young eyes. Ray Palmer is ages older than you. What are you even thinking?

I knew you wouldn't understand, Moira said, a pout in her voice. He said that no one would, and he was right. Ray says having younger siblings means I had to grow up fast. He understands me in ways no one else ever will.

A knock on the door interrupted the conversation. Mara huffed unhappily. Three guesses who that is, she whispered to her sister.

Come in, Reggie, my mother said sweetly.

Reggie opened the door and stood there, framed in the hallway light. He was so small – five or six, in red footed pajamas, his dark hair wild and curly. I can't sleep, he sniffed.

Mara frowned, but Moira sat up and stretched out her hand. Want to come in with us?

He nodded eagerly, and raced for the bed without waiting for further invitation. He had a stuffed bear with him, and I held my breath when he looked into Mara's eyes. Into my eyes.

Mom and Dad don't understand, right, Mara? he said, in his little boy's voice. But us three – we know. Because we're in the magic circle – the sisters and the brother, the triad. Nobody can ever change that.

When the vision faded, I was crying. Not small tears, either – these were big, ugly, horrible tears that fell like they would never stop. I couldn't even think about what Mara had said about Ray Palmer. I would deal with that later.

For now, all I could think about was Reggie. Reggie and Mara and Moira – all three of them dead now. He had been the last of the magic circle. The triad. How horrible must it have been, how lonely, when he learned that Moira was gone too?

"What the hell did you do to her?" Oliver demanded. I hadn't even heard him come in. Ray and I were seated at a table at the back of the library, photo albums spread out in front of us. Ray looked up, looking so horrified it might have been funny if everything weren't so damned tragic.

"Nothing," Ray said. He held up his hands. "We were looking at photos, and then she had a vision and just started…this." He started to pat my arm but I cringed away, unable to contemplate yet another vision just then.

"I'm okay," I sobbed. "I just…Reggie…" And then I lost it again. Both men traded a helpless look.

"Maybe I should go," Ray said.

"You think?" Oliver said dryly. "Go on. I'll take care of her."

"Tomorrow morning—" Ray began.

I shook my head and managed to pull it together enough to explain that I was working on the gardens during the day. Sort of. Ray looked at Oliver, baffled.

"The gardens," he said impatiently. "She's meeting with Roy to start on the landscaping."

Ray looked like he was going to argue with that, but stopped at a glare from Oliver. Instead, he nodded on a sigh. "Tomorrow night, then. I hope you feel better, Felicity."

When he was gone, I tried to pick up the mess of photos left behind but all I did was knock half of them on the floor, which made me start crying all over again. Which kind of made me laugh because…dude. When had I become such a mess?

Oliver got down on the floor with me and stilled my hands in his. I looked at him. "Felicity," he said softly. "This can wait until later. I think you could use some sleep."

I nodded dumbly. "Yeah," I sniffed. "You might be right."

He guided me out with his hand steady at the small of my back, and remained there all the way to my bedroom. I thought again of the three siblings, crowded in that bed whispering secrets and pacts.

All of them gone now.

"I don't want to go in there," I whispered, my hand on the doorknob. My eyes were dry now, the tears gone. Reggie's pallid face, eyes gone wide, flashed through my mind. I managed a shuddering breath before I looked at Oliver. "I don't want to be alone tonight."

Our eyes held, that familiar storm in a sea of blue before me. "I could get Willa," he said quietly.

I shook my head, my eyes never leaving his. "I don't want Willa."

I rose up on my toes, my hands fisted in the front of his shirt. Oliver froze. Tension ran through him when my lips found his. He didn't move.

A second passed.

Two.

And still, he just stood there – frozen.

Mortified, I started to pull away.

Only then did he come to life.

As though he'd lost some inner battle, he pulled me back to him with a ragged sigh. One hand fell to my hair, holding me still as our mouths crashed together once more. He pulled me closer, deepening the kiss. His tongue pressed past my lips and he spun us and pressed me back against my bedroom door, his body solid, searing against mine. The intensity took my breath away; for the first time in my life, the past disappeared.

He pulled away first, resting his forehead against mine. "Felicity," he said softly. I liked the way he said it, almost like it was a prayer. "This is a bad idea."

I kept my hands at his sides, my heart hammering. "Why?"

He did one of those huff-laughs that I was starting to love. "Do you want a list?"

"Definitely not."

We stayed that way for a few seconds, forehead to forehead, my heart beating hard, his hand still fisted gently in my hair. "Please, Oliver," I finally whispered. "Don't make me spend the night alone." It cost something to say the words, but at the moment it wasn't as much as it would have cost for me to go into that room on my own.

His nodded, the movement so slight I might have imagined it, and his hand shifted to the doorknob. "Ray can't know," he whispered to me, his eyes burning into mine.

I started to argue, but then thought of Ray's conversation with Rose about Oliver; about how intense he got every time he saw the two of us looking at each other. "I know," I whispered back.

I followed him inside.