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okay?”
     
    “Okay,” Hanna said.
     
    “I’m going to lock the front door. When you take off, just use the backdoor.”
     
    Hanna smiled as Connor took off for work, leaving the curtain wide open. Hanna was trapped. There was no way that she could make it to the door on the other side of the room without serious burns, and going to the window to close the blinds was also out of the question. The house was loaded with uncovered windows, so even if she did make it past the bedroom, there was nowhere she could go.
     
    Instead, she would have to wait three or four hours for the sun to set.
     
    Tears began to swell up in Hanna’s eyes again, but not because of any pain. This time, she was crying because reality was setting in—she was going to have to tell Connor her secret. Either that, or break it off with him. The thought of both options stung deep.
     

 
    CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
    IT’S LATE
     
    It did not surprise him, but it did not fail to frustrate him. Wade Fenner tapped his foot anxiously as he sat at the front of the classroom, waiting for his students to show up—nearly all of who were late.
     
    Andrew was the only student who showed up on time. He was actually thirty minutes early, which was just as annoying for Wade, because it meant making awkward small talk while he waited for the rest of the class to show up—and Wade hated small talk more than anything else in the world.
     
    It was no secret that Wade was not the best conversationalist. All he wanted to do was teach kids, mark tests and go home to his family—he was not the best when it came to relating to the younger generation.
     
    “Thanks for being early, Andrew,” Wade said with his deep, commanding tone.
     
    “It’s my pleasure,” Andrew replied.
     
    There was a long awkward pause while Wade stared anxiously at the clock—which had already struck class time. 
     
    Wade took a breath and looked around the room. “Did you see the game last night?” Wade asked.
     
    “Which one?”
     
    “The Leafs-Wings game.”
     
    “That’s hockey?”
     
    Wade groaned. “Yeah. It’s hockey.”
     
    “Sorry—no. I’ve never really gotten into hockey.”
     
    There was yet another long awkward silence.
     
    “Then what are you into?” Wade asked.
     
    “Me?” Andrew asked.
     
    Wade looked around the empty room. “Yes, Andrew. You.” Wade meant well—he was just painfully introverted.
     
    “Um,” Andrew thought. “I like to travel,” he said.
     
    “Is that why you’re taking English?”
     
    Andrew laughed. “To travel?” he asked. “No.”
     
    “Why is that funny?” Wade asked. If you did not know Wade, it was easy to think he was a brooding, grumpy man. People generally found him intimidating and uninviting.
     
    “Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,” Andrew awkwardly apologized.
     
    “No—I’m serious. Why is that funny?” Wade just genuinely wanted to know what was so funny.
     
    “I don’t know—It’s just—Why would I take English so I can travel? I already know English. You’d think I would take something like German or Spanish—Languages that are useful to know when you travel.”
     
    “Oh,” Wade said. “I thought that maybe you were trying to get into travel writing.”
     
    Andrew laughed. “I’ve never been into blogs.”
     
    “What’s a blog?” Wade asked.
     
    Andrew laughed for a moment, and then noticed Wade’s unimpressed expression. He stopped. “It’s like a website where you keep an online journal.”
     
    “That sounds stupid,” Wade said.
     
    Andrew laughed.
     
    “I meant travel writing for travel magazines, and guide books. It’s very lucrative right now, and they only hire people who have been everywhere, so that they can draw comparisons. One of my cousins writes for Lonely Planet. He makes a load of money, and they pay him to go everywhere in the world. He’s in Lebanon now.”
     
    “That’s a thing?” Andrew asked.
     
    “Yeah. They need to update all of