Zoe POV

Jake is still standing at the back of the shelter when I say his name.

"Jake."

I don't raise my voice. The shelter is quiet enough that it carries, and every head that's turned toward the platform turns a few degrees further toward the back wall. Jake goes still when he hears it — the stillness of someone who had very much hoped not to be noticed.

I hold his gaze across the crowd and wait.

He hesitates. Shifts his weight. Looks briefly at the floor, ...