I don’t speak when the call connects, just listen to him breathe. “Lois?” he says, and I keep quiet. “Why haven’t you answered any of my calls, baby?” Baby? Seriously? At least I know she’s not talking to him, listening to his blended, spoon-fed bullshit. “I need to see you. Just once. Please, Lo.” He exhales into the phone while I hold my breath, waiting for more. “Please, baby.” And I’ve had enough and I hang up because he’s nothing but poison in her veins, and the sooner he’s out of her system, the better off she’ll be. I go through her phone, through the missed calls and messages. If he’s been messaging her, she’s been deleting them because there isn’t a single one there. But there are a lot of missed calls from him. Too many to count. She's probably tried to delete that evidence, too, but she doesn't know how to because she's one of the few in our generation who can survive without an iPhone glued to her hand. I delete the call just made, the one that shows I picked up, and when she gets out of the bathroom, her hair still wet, I pretend like nothing happened. Because really, nothing did happen.

At the cabin, I tell Cameron about the interview with Lachlan's teacher and how she recommended Lachlan get into some form of organized sport. “I was looking into getting him on a baseball team during the summer league, but they're all full. But, the league’s still accepting new teams…”

He eyes me sideways. “So what? You want to start a whole new team?”

“Not just me. You and me, and I thought the twins could help assist, you know, give them something to do during the break? We can throw in a few bucks, get the company to sponsor them, get some uniforms. It's not too late.”

He thinks about this a moment. “You know, if we do that it'll be a bunch of Lachlan's friends, and you've met Lachlan's friends, right?”

I chuckle. “We could name the team The Misfits.”

Cameron says he’s in and that it’ll be good times. Then somehow, the conversation switches to the senior prom. Lane smiles at me from across the room, and I wonder if she remembers the pact we made on her sixteenth birthday; that regardless of who we were to each other, we'd go together. I don't think either of us would've imagined that we'd be where we are, her practically living in my apartment and making plans for our future while subconsciously dodging the fact that come August, I'll be two and a half hours away and she has no real idea what she'll be doing. “Tickets go on sale next Monday,” Lucy says, and how she knows this stuff about a school she left three years ago, I have no idea. She must see the question in my eyes, because she laughs. “I still get the high school newsletter emailed to me.” She looks at Laney. “Are you excited about it?”

Laney nods once, her gaze distant, and I know she, too, is lost in the memory of fancy restaurants and lobster and bracelets and Wonderwalls.

Chapter Thirty-Two

LOIS

I sit in my car on the Prestons’ driveway looking between the main house and Lucas's apartment, and I have no idea how I got here. The sky is dark, the stars bright, and I've never felt so much silence. I wipe at my eyes when the porch light comes on, look at the clock. It's 4:30 am. Tom's leaving for work. Shit. I had no concept of time, no idea how long I’ve been sitting here. I try to scoot down in my seat, hoping he’ll assume I’m just spending the night with Luke. My heart pounds, the tears come again. Knock knock on my window. “Lane?”

I wind down the window, do my best to smile.

“Why are you sitting in your car?” he asks, concern dripping in his words. He looks at the apartment. “Does Luke know you’re here?”

“No, sir.” I shake my head. “I finished work late last night and I didn't want to go home and I just started driving, ended up here, and I know Luke's got so much going on with his meet this weekend and I didn't want to wake him, so I've just been here…” A sob creeps up my throat, forces its way out of me. “I'm sorry. I'm just going to go.”

“No, sweetheart. Come inside. You shouldn’t be driving right now.”

I nod, gather my stuff, gather myself.

The house is eerily silent, and I tell Tom that as I follow him to the kitchen. He switches on the coffee pot, turns to me. “It's peaceful, huh? But it's also kind of lonely when you're used to the general mayhem.” He points to a chair at the kitchen table, and I take a seat, listen to the clock ticking, the tap leaking, the coffee pouring.

“I’m sorry. You were on your way to work and I…”

He sets a cup of coffee in front of me, sips on his as he sits in his usual chair at the head of the table. He covers my hand with his, says, “I don’t live to work, Lane. I work to live, and my life is my family. That includes you, so talk to me.”

There's so much I want to say. So much I wish I could tell him. I almost do. Almost. But then he squeezes my hand, looks at me the way Kathy did when I told her about my mom, and I can’t do that to him. The truth would destroy him.

I wipe my eyes, try to settle my emotions, give him a small part of the reason why I’ve been sitting in his driveway the entire night. “When Luke goes to UNC in August, will you need help with the boys? Maybe I could move into the apartment and—”

“Are you asking for a job?”

“I don't have any plans after graduation. I just thought, if you need it…”

He leans back in his chair, rubs his beard. “Luke mentioned something about you getting scholarships.”

“Cooper was my link to all that so…” I trail off, shrug.

“Have you and Lucas spoken about what you both want to happen when he goes to college?”

I drop my gaze, feel the warmth of the mug seep through my palms, my fingertips. “I don’t expect Luke to—” The front door opens, cutting me off.

Luke rushes into the kitchen, his eyes wide when he sees me. “I saw your car in the driveway,” he says. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “I’m fine.”

Tom stands, kisses the top of my head. “Talk to him, sweetheart.”

“Talk to me about what?”

Luke leans on the kitchen counter in his apartment while I sit on the stool on the other side. For the past ten minutes, he’s been patiently watching me stare at my coffee, waiting for me to form my thoughts into words, but nothing’s coming and I need time, Lucas. “You should go for your run.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because my girlfriend’s at my house and she didn’t even tell me she was here. Instead, she’s talking to my dad and telling him things she should be telling me, and it’s clear she’s been crying. So no, babe, I’m not going for a run. I’m not leaving your side.”

The truth forms on the tip of my tongue, but my fear pushes it away. “I was just asking him about a job.”

“A job?”

I nod.

“Lane, I don’t need that money. My mom left me some for when I turned eighteen and—”