“I don’t want to be.”

I whipped around to face him. “Robbie! Just . . . come on.”

His lip started to tremble, and I experienced instant self-hate. Taking his hand, I pulled him with me. “If you’re still hungry, we can make Grandpa stop at a drive-thru somewhere.”

I wanted to stay.

I didn’t want to have to be strong for Grams either. I didn’t want to see Grandpa struggle to keep from crying, because he too had to be strong for Grams, and I really didn’t want to think about how the last time I’d seen my mother, she’d seemed all too relieved to see me go.

I held tight to Robbie’s hand until I heard him hiss. I relaxed my hold. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t. Nothing was okay anymore.

We were halfway to the car when Ryan called my name. I looked back, stopping as Robbie kept going. Ryan was coming down the sidewalk, the house door closed behind him. Everyone else had stayed inside. Glancing over my shoulder, I could see Robbie settling into the car. Grams was already seated, and Grandpa headed to the driver’s side. He’d left the back door open for me.

“Hey,” I said.

Ryan stopped, and a flurry of expressions flashed over his face. Doubt. Confusion. Then wariness. He started to rake his hand through his hair, but he realized what he was doing and stopped.

He laughed shortly. “I do that all the time. My hair’s always a mess.”

“It suits you. You look cute.”

His eyes widened. “Oh. Thanks.”

I shrugged. It was the truth. Well, it made him hot, not cute. But I kept that to myself.

He looked back at his house, like he was deciding whether to say whatever he’d come out to say. He slid his hands into his pockets. “Are you going to be able to sleep okay?”

Ah. The bed. “Are you going to miss me?”

His dimple winked at me, teasing. “Maybe.” The other side of his mouth curved up, and I realized he had a second dimple. “For real, though. Are you going to be okay? Your Grams doesn’t seem the most soothing type, you know?”

“Oh boy. I know.” I tried to grin but failed. Ignoring his question, I said, “Thank you.”

“For sleeping with you?”

“That too. Thanks for spending time with me. I know I’m . . . not really myself.”

“With reason.”

“Yeah.” I had to get going. I probably had three more seconds before Grams would be lowering her window to call for me. “Look—”

“My sister isn’t that bad,” he said.

“What?”

“My sister.” He pointed over his shoulder toward his house. “I could tell you thought she was a spoiled bitch, and yeah, she can be that. But she isn’t always. I think she wanted to be friends with you.”

“Why?”

Ryan looked as if he was trying not to laugh. “You’re kidding, right?”

I wasn’t. I didn’t know what he meant. Two seconds. I was already bracing to hear Grams’s voice. “I should go.”

“Nolesrock at gmail. You can email me if you want. It goes right to my phone, and I’ll get an alert. I can call you if you want.”

I opened my mouth, but I heard the car window coming down and swallowed my thanks. Before Grams could say anything, I remembered I didn’t have my phone. I’d dropped it when I saw Willow.

Willow . . .

“I’ll email you,” I said quickly before hurrying into the car.

I wanted to look back to see if Ryan had stayed to watch us go. But I didn’t. I didn’t know why. And as soon as we got one block away, I regretted it. I wished I had looked, but again, I couldn’t explain why. I just did.

Then Robbie said what I was thinking. “Ryan’s cool.”

Yes. Yes, he was.

COUNSELING SESSION ONE

“Hello, Mackenzie. My name is Naomi. Your parents thought it was a good idea if you had someone to talk to during this time, but I want to help you in any way you need. So, why don’t you tell me where you’d like to start?”

“I want to leave.”

And I did.

One month later

“Counseling isn’t working,” my father said. “She won’t go to most of the sessions, and it’s been a month. What about Arizona? Should she go back home?”

I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, but the temptation was too great. They’d been in the kitchen talking about what to do with me for the last twenty minutes, and I finally gave in, moving from my room to sit at the top of the stairs.

And no shit, Sherlock.

The whole push for counseling had started right away. It was Grams’s idea, and everyone except me agreed with it. I’d fought hard, but nothing I said made a difference. So, I resorted to some stupid-shit tricks. And I say stupid shit, because it was as basic as I could get. I didn’t go. Literally. If they dropped me off, I went in and left once the car moved ahead. If they parked and waited the whole hour, I went out through a back door.