“Honey?” My mom.

Whoa. I reached for my sleeping tank and tugged it on. “I thought you were gone already?”

“We’re leaving in a few, but are you going to be okay to get to school? Do you need a ride?”

“No. I’ll be fine.”

She didn’t ask if I wanted to talk about Robbie. I shouldn’t have been surprised. My biggest battle had been the counseling sessions. After that, it was like they’d learned not to even give me a chance to voice my opinion.

I listened to them move around the house.

I’d been with them for eighteen years. I knew their routine. My dad made the coffee. My mom made the toast. My dad would eat that and a yogurt, and then they’d finish getting dressed. They’d take the coffee with them. I heard keys jingling while they discussed who would come to say goodbye.

My mom must’ve won because my dad’s heavy footsteps came up the stairs.

A slight knock. His voice was muffled through the door. “We’re heading out. You’ll call if you need anything.”

It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t asking, and he didn’t wait for a reply.

Again, no word about Robbie. Did they not think I’d be affected by that? Then again, I didn’t know what was going on in my dad’s head anymore.

Did he leave feeling as if he’d fulfilled his good-father role? Or did he go off not thinking about me at all? As if checking on me were another part of their routine for the morning? Because it was. They’d always checked on Robbie and Willow . . . and there was usually something happening there that kept their attention. A few times they’d gotten to me, but the focus was usually with Willow.

My phone sprang to life, and I scooted to the edge of my bed. Bracing my elbows on my legs, I cradled my head in my hands for two seconds.

The ringing didn’t stop, so with a groan, I grabbed for it. “Hello?”

A soft and tentative voice. “Is this Mackenzie?”

I stood. “Who is this?”

“Cora.”

Ryan’s friend. No, correct that, the girl who had a crush on Ryan—the guy I kissed last night.

I bit my lip. What was my role?

“Uh, hey. Yeah. It’s Mackenzie.”

“Oh, thank God.” She laughed. “I swiped your number from Ryan’s phone. There’s another Mackenzie in our class who likes him, so I wasn’t sure if I got the right one or not.”

Another one? I frowned. “No, this is me. That other girl, does she text him too?”

“What?” She sounded distracted. “No, no. Well, yes. She texts him, but I don’t think he responds.”

Relief. Phew.

Seriously, how many girls were after him?

“Okay.”

And then silence.

I waited a beat. She called me.

“Um, so okay, I called to see if you needed a ride to school, or if, like, you wanted to meet me somewhere in school? I could be your guide through classes, you know?”

Well, fuck.

She was going the friend route, which meant I’d have to adhere to the friend code. So hands off Ryan, but I’d already violated that rule. And because I didn’t have the energy to worry about this, I blurted out, “Look, I have to tell you . . .”

I paused for a breath. She started to break in, but nope, I was doing this. She probably knew what I was going to say and wanted to put up a roadblock. But I had to say this because I didn’t know her when I met Ryan. But I’d begun to depend on him since June twenty-ninth.

I spoke over her. “Ryan and I are something.”

“What?”

I groaned inwardly. She sounded like she wanted to cry.

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Oh, that’s okay. Just don’t do it again, you know?”

“No. You aren’t listening to me. I’m sorry you’re hurting, but I can’t step back. I wanted you to know this before we even think about becoming friends.” I took a breath. “And if you don’t want to anymore, I understand.”

Ryan wasn’t into her. I knew that, and she knew it too. She also knew he was into me.

Maybe if Willow were still alive, I wouldn’t need Ryan and I’d really like Cora. Maybe then, I would have been able to step back, but I wasn’t in that place.

I gentled my tone. “I’m sorry, Cora. I know you like him.”

She sniffled on her end. “Then why are you pursuing him?”

It wasn’t like that, but . . .

“Because I need him right now.”

More sniffling. I heard her blow her nose.

“I always thought maybe, you know?” she finally said, her voice resigned. “He seemed disgusted with Erin the last time we saw her, and I had hope. Like I had a chance, finally.”

Sadness weighed in my chest, but my need to get through this shitstorm outweighed that. Call me a bitch. Call me a whore. Call me whatever negative thing you want, but in that moment, I was just a survivor.