I regretted agreeing to this the moment Ronan told me to put on a coat.
He did not explain where we were going. He just appeared outside my door like a silent monument with intentions he refused to share. His expression was unreadable, which was irritating. He could have been planning a romantic moment or preparing to drag me into a snow pit and lecture me about responsibility. With Ronan, either was possible.
"Where are we going," I asked for the third time as we stepped off the porch and onto the snow packed path leading toward the woods.
"You will see," he said.
"I hate when you say that."
"I know."
He did not look at me when he said it, which annoyed me further. The sun was dipping low behind the treetops, painting the sky in orange and purple streaks. Snowflakes drifted down laz
