You cross the rooftop, heart thundering. "Who sent this?" you demand, holding up the paper. "Why here?" He turns at last. His storm-gray eyes catch the last of the sun. "I did," he admits. "I needed to talk where no one else could listen." The space between you narrows. You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, uncertain whether to be angry or relieved. "About what?" He hesitates, then steps closer. The city lights blink on beneath you. "About trust." Your jaw tightens. "You expect me to trust you after all that's happened?"