Leo hadn’t aged so much as settled into himself. The same crooked smile, now with faint lines at the corners. His hair was shorter, graying at the temples. He held two popsicles—grape, her favorite—like no time had passed at all.
Leo nodded, like he’d expected it. Then he pulled a cheap compass from his backpack—the kind that didn’t even work right—and pressed it into her palm. “Then you’ll always find your way back to summer. Even when it’s cold.”
Leo smiled softly. “Then he doesn’t know you. Not all of you.”