“You ready for some tough love?” he says when I still won’t commit. “You need to shake Fenn and Lawson out of your head. Cut those emotional strings and fly free.”

  “Oh, yeah? And a dance is going to help me do that, huh?”

  “If we crash the party together, sure.” He sounds confident in his proposal. “Embrace the chaos, Case.”

  I can’t help but laugh at his determination to put me in a better mood. And I suppose it’s worked. I do feel better. And if I’m going to brave another dance, going with Lucas probably has the best odds of a good time.

  “Fine,” I relent. “If I don’t change my mind before then.”

  “You won’t.”

  After he’s gone, I go to my room and do homework until dinner. Sloane left for a run while I was with Lucas, returning just as Dad finishes frying the garlic shrimp.

  “Gonna grab a quick shower,” she says as she flies up the stairs.

  I carry the flavored rice and veggie dish I’d prepared and set it on the table. Ten minutes later, the three of us sit down for dinner. While we eat, I notice Sloane sending numerous uneasy looks my way, but when I ask her what’s up, she says it’s nothing and then focuses intently on her garlic shrimp.

  I know my sister, though, so the moment Dad disappears into his study to read and drink his tea, I pounce on her.

  “What’s wrong?” I demand as we clear the table.

  “So, there’s been a development,” she says in a soft voice, glancing toward the hallway. “I didn’t want to say it in front of Lucas earlier, and Dad was already home when I got back from my run.”

  “What happened?” I already know this isn’t going to be good news, so I brace myself for her response.

  “Fenn turned himself in at the police station. He told them what he did on prom night. Stealing evidence, covering for Gabe. Everything.”

  All the breath leaves my body, my lungs seizing. “Are you serious?”

  “Yup. RJ texted me the basics after school. I just met up with him on the path during my run and he filled me in on the details. There aren’t many,” she admits. “All I know so far is that Fenn confessed, his lawyer is handling things, and his dad flew in too. RJ says we should probably expect the cops to show up here and question you again.”

  I feel my face going pale. “Shit. Dad’s going to freak.”

  I imagine he’ll be livid when he learns that he’s been letting me spend time with the guy who pulled me out of the car and left me there unconscious. Yet I’m not as worried about that as I am about the trouble Fenn might face.

  My hands are weak and shaky as I place our plates in the sink. “Do you think he’ll go to jail? Was he charged?”

  She gives a grim nod and tells me the charges.

  I’m queasy now, my stomach churning. “What if I vouch for him with the police? Tell them I know for a fact he wasn’t driving.”

  “I don’t think that’s the issue here,” Sloane says. “They don’t suspect him of causing the accident. But he removed evidence from a potential crime scene after the fact. That’s big.”

  It is big.

  It’s huge.

  And the idea of Fenn being locked up for what he did makes me physically ill. For the rest of the evening, I’m on the verge of throwing up. Despite my better judgment, I can’t stop myself from texting Fenn.

  Me: I heard what you did. Are you okay? Any updates?

  He doesn’t respond, and I have a feeling it’s purposeful. I can almost see him pacing his dorm room, telling RJ that he refuses to drag me back into this mess. It’s already bad enough she’ll probably be questioned again, he’s saying. I can’t dump all my problems on her too.

  I can hear his voice in my head saying that. Firm. Thick with fortitude, determined to keep me out of it.

  I broke you.

  His gruff, sad words float around in my head, bringing a lump to my throat. Fenn thinks he’s protecting me by ignoring me. He thinks he broke me.

  I think maybe we broke each other.

  The horrible notion stays with me all night. My phone stays silent. Hours pass and I can’t fall asleep. I lie there in the dark, plagued with a constant stream of thoughts and a perpetual stomachache that doesn’t go away. This hollow sensation in my gut won’t abate, this nagging unease and emptiness inside me.

  I thought I could punish Fenn for what he did, but trying to cut him out of my life only succeeded in ruining both of us.

  Eventually I drift off. I know I do because it’s around two in the morning when the nightmare forces me back into consciousness. I wake up coughing, gasping for air.

  Oddly enough, I wasn’t drowning. The house was on fire. I couldn’t see the flames, but I could smell the smoke. It was filling my bedroom, seeping into every corner, curling up the walls toward the ceiling. Within seconds, the entire room was a suffocating gray cloud. I made the mistake of inhaling, and the smoke burned a path into my lungs.

  I acted fast. Once I realized I couldn’t stay in this room, I grabbed the shoebox from the nightstand and raced to the door. I could feel Silver’s body jostling around in the box with each hurried step, and her loud cries pierced the quiet night. She was alive.

  But now I’m awake. The bedroom isn’t full of smoke. And Silver is still dead.

  A sob flies out of my mouth, ripped from deep in my soul.

  Oh my God. What the hell is wrong with me?

  Tears flood my eyes, a gust of agony blasting into me, making me curl over on the bed. I suck in deep, agonizing breaths as shame and horror burn my throat.

  I threw her in the garbage.

  I threw her body in the fucking garbage.

  With loud, heartrending sobs, I crawl out of bed and stumble to my feet. I can’t remember the last time I felt this kind of pain. Not even the aftermath of the accident, the loss of all my friends, had triggered such a response.

  I throw my door open and burst into the hall, startling Penny. She starts barking, and I don’t even try to quiet her. I run on bare feet toward my father’s bedroom.

  He’s already awake when I stagger inside, sitting up and flicking on the lamp by his bed. He takes one look at my tear-soaked face, hears the ragged noises coming out of my mouth, and flings his blankets aside.

  “Casey,” he says with the kind of horrified concern that only makes me cry harder.

  “Where did you take the garbage?” I choke out, still struggling to breathe. I feel dizzy, swaying on my feet.

  Dad steadies me with a strong, firm hand. “What? What’s happening, sweetheart?”

  Penny is still barking up a storm in the doorway, which draws Sloane out of her bedroom, her sleepy voice filling the hall. “What’s going on—”

  “Where did you put the garbage bag with Silver’s body?” I plead, staring at my dad with huge, tear-filled eyes. “Where is she? We have to bury her.”

  “Casey—”

  “Please,” I beg. I launch myself at him and press my face against his shirt. “Why did you let me do that to her? Why?”

  “Casey—”

  “Why?” I start to shake, shudder, crying like a baby in his arms. “I’m so ashamed. Why did you let me do that?”

  “Casey, we buried her.”

  Chapter 46

  Casey

  My sister’s gentle voice snaps me to attention. I lift my head and seek out her gaze.

  “W-what?” I stammer. Breathing through the tears, I look from Sloane to our dad. “You buried her?”

  He nods to confirm the claim. “We did.”

  “When?”

  “After you threw out the box. You went up to your room, and we took her out of the garbage and buried her.”

  “Why?”

  Sloane comes over and wraps her arm around my waist. She’s taller than me, so she’s able to rest her chin perfectly on my shoulder. “Because we knew you’d regret it if she didn’t have a proper burial.”

  Another wave of emotion washes over me, weakening my knees. I sag into my sister’s embrace.

  “You were right—people do grow up,” Dad agrees, reminding me of what I’d said that day in the kitchen. “And things do die. But the one thing that can never die is your compassion, sweetheart. You can’t change what’s imbedded deep in your soul. You loved that rabbit, just like you’ve loved every other injured stray you’ve brought home.”

  “Where did you bury her?” My tears are drying, slowly leaking from the corners of my eyes.

  “Your sister picked a nice shady spot on the property behind the far shed, in that fenced-off area where the dogs don’t go.”

  My breaths begin to steady. I swallow, speaking through the lump in my throat. “Can you take me there?”

  Dad looks startled. “Now?”

  “No, we can wait till morning,” I say in a shaky voice. “Just don’t forget.”

  “I won’t,” he promises, then grasps my chin with his hand and tips my head up. He searches my face. “Are you okay?”

  I manage a nod.

  “Are you sure? Do you want me to fix you a cup of warm milk? Hot tea?”

  “I’m good,” I assure him, and I’m not lying. I feel like a massive load has been lifted off my chest. Picturing Silver’s body in the trash had ripped something apart inside of me, but those torn pieces of my heart are slowly stitching their way back together. “Let’s all go to bed now.”

  “That’s a good idea,” he says.

  “I’ll walk you to your room,” Sloane says, taking my hand.

  We say good night to our father and go to my room, but rather than leave me to sleep, Sloane follows me in and sits on the edge of my bed.

  “We need to talk.”

  “It’s late, Sloane. And I just got off an emotional roller coaster. Can we save it for tomorrow?”

  “No, we can’t. In fact, this is the perfect time to discuss it. When you’re feeling raw and your defenses are down.”

  “That sounds ominous.” Swallowing my annoyance, I crawl back under the covers and draw them up to my neck. “Fine. Talk. I won’t be able to fall asleep right away, anyway.”

  “Look, I get that you’ve gone through some rough shit. I do. And you have every reason to be upset and discouraged and anything else you’re feeling.” She exhales, shaking her head at me. “But whatever this act is you’re doing, it doesn’t suit you. This whole bad-girl routine has to stop. It’s not you.”

  “It’s not an act. It’s a reaction to finally being completely fed up with the way everyone treats me like some fragile little mouse.” Resentment tightens my throat. “Especially you.”

  “So that’s why you’re skinny-dipping with Mila and getting detention? Because your family is smothering you? Well, I’m sorry you’re burdened with people who care about you.”

  I feel tired again. Exhausted. Of course. Sloane’s always got to be the martyr. It’s hilarious that she comes in here saying we have to talk about me, but somehow makes it about her.

  “I don’t want to fight with you, Sloane.” My eyes start to feel hot again. “I just want you to understand me.”

  “I’m trying.”

  She scoots to the head of the bed, fishing my hand out from under the covers. I let her, only because her fingers are so warm and I’m suddenly feeling cold. Empty.

  “Talk to me, Case. Please. I’m listening.”

  My heart squeezes. We’ve always been close. We didn’t have a choice, I guess. Mom was gone, and the two of us were left to navigate a world hostile to girls without someone to teach us how to survive. Dad has done his best, but he can’t possibly understand what we’ve been through. What we will go through. Since we were little, I’ve turned to Sloane to help me figure these things out. For better or worse, she’s been my role model. Maybe that’s why we fight so much lately. She has a hard time looking at herself in the mirror.

  “I screwed up,” I confess. “I hooked up with Lawson.”

  Her eyes nearly leap out of her skull. She opens her mouth then snaps it shut again.

  “And I told Fenn. So, of course, he didn’t take it well. Showed up here last night covered in blood and bruises.”

  She drops her head, biting her tongue. Her enormous show of restraint doesn’t go unnoticed.

  “I managed to make a mess of the whole thing, and I don’t know how to stop making things worse.”

  After more silence than I’m comfortable with, Sloane readjusts her position, sitting cross-legged so she can peer down at me. “In a perfect world, what do you want out of all this?”

  “This, what?”

  “Well, do you want to be with Lawson?” She looks like she’s holding back bile just getting the words out. It’s sort of painful to watch.

  “No. I don’t think so. It just sort of happened.”

  She winces, nodding before I’m tempted to traumatize her with the details. “What about Fenn?”

  If imagining me with Lawson makes her physically ill, I suspect that entertaining the idea of Fenn remaining an active part of my life nearly kills her.

  “He knows what he did hurt me, and he really has tried to make it right. He showed up here last night to come clean and finally admit what happened at prom. And now he’s gone and turned himself in. Might go to jail for what he did. And I know I’m supposed to be angry at him for that night, blame him for leaving me there and not telling me it was him, but I also wouldn’t be alive if he hadn’t shown up. I would have drowned.” My throat clamps shut. “Like Mom.”

  “I get it. I feel the same way. I want to hate him, but it’s hard,” she admits, albeit grudgingly.

  “I don’t hate him at all. I’ve tried to, and I just can’t. I’m stuck,” I confess. “I can’t move on from him and I’m so completely miserable all the time. He screwed up and he’s been paying for it. But I’m paying for it too.”

  Fenn’s greatest fault was trying to be everything to everyone. Protecting me and his best friend, who happened to find each other on opposite ends of a situation Fenn was unlucky enough to stumble into. He tried to do the right thing the wrong way. It was a mistake, and he’s admitted as much.

  “He hurt me, but I hurt him too. And I knew what I was doing when I did.”

  Sloane goes silent for a moment.

  “Okay,” she finally says. “Let me give you the benefit of my experience. Holding a grudge will never bring you comfort. It’s not going to heal whatever wound his betrayal created. I thought I could write RJ off, but all I did was drive myself crazy. At some point, if hating them is hurting you, you have to try forgiveness.”

  “I want to forgive him.” I bite my lip. “But doesn’t that make me weak?”

  “No,” she says, her voice emphatic. “Not if the apology is sincere. Showing grace to someone you believe deserves it takes serious guts. Even more courage to give them another chance.”

  My teeth dig deeper into my lower lip. “It still feels like a weakness to me. Why am I always so quick to forgive people? Like, how many chances did I give Gillian this spring before I finally realized she was a snake? And even now, I can pretend to hold a grudge against her, but I don’t. I told her off at a party, did I tell you that?”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “It felt good in the moment,” I admit. “I felt righteous. And then the next day, I felt bad about it.” I laugh at myself. “I can’t even stay pissed at a girl who whispered behind my back when she was supposed to be my best friend. I wish I was stronger about that sort of stuff. Like you.”

  “You are strong,” she insists.

  “Sure,” I scoff.

  “Casey. Look at me.”

  I force myself to meet her eyes.

  “You’re as strong as I am, maybe even more so. And you don’t need to be like me. We’re different people. You seem to think that my version of strength is the only one. That you’re supposed to be tough and thick-skinned, hold grudges, tell bitches off at parties…”

  I snicker softly.

  “I will fight my enemies to the death. That’s my strength. But yours? You will kill your enemies with kindness.”

  “That sounds so pathetic,” I grumble.

  “It’s not. It’s pretty fucking admirable. Kindness is a strength. Compassion, like Dad said. Forgiveness. Your version of strength is patience and resilience. Stop shying away from it. I wish I had even half of your softness.” She sounds embarrassed now. “I’ve been trying to be softer lately. Not sure it’s working.”

  Her words give me pause. I’ve always viewed Sloane as impenetrable, this force of nature stronger than any storm. Someone who faces down the world and never flinches. But if I think about it, she has softened a little since meeting RJ. Become a little more tolerant of others. Less rigid. Yet no less formidable. I’d still pick her first in dodgeball over anyone.

  “There’s nothing wrong with being gentle.” She throws her arm over my shoulder and brings me in to lay my head in her lap. “Or a little vulnerable sometimes. Doesn’t mean you aren’t strong. I don’t know anyone else who could have endured the year you’ve had and still be standing. Never forget who you are.”

  “Okay. And who am I?” I ask with a smile.

  “You’re Casey fucking Tresscott, and you’re goddamn incredible.”

  Chapter 47

  Fenn

  “You’ll see, this is going to work itself out,” Dad insists as he unpacks the paper bag of breakfast sandwiches he picked up from a café in town on the way to Sandover.

  I grab a coffee and take a seat on the sofa.

  “I’m not letting them throw you in jail for saving a girl from drowning. That’s nonsense.”

  “It’s not the rescuing part they charged me with,” I remind him.

  Dad gives me an admonishing glance. Incredibly, he’s not yet come around to having a grim sense of humor about the whole thing. And while I appreciate his attempts to reassure me, I’m less optimistic about my fate.