“If that police department had done their damn jobs last year, we wouldn’t be in this position. I’m not about to let them string my son up because they still haven’t caught the real criminal. For that matter, the security at Ballard failed abysmally. Drugs on campus. Students wandering off. There’s enough culpability to go around. You’re the least of their problems, Fenn.”

  Maybe it’s the sheer number of charges I hadn’t considered that has me spooked. Or the way the thoroughly embarrassed police chief snarled and glared at me over his shoulder as he stood at the end of the hall getting the brief from his intake officer after I announced why I’d dragged myself into their lobby.

  “Egg or no egg?” Dad asks RJ as he reads the scribble on the sandwich wrappers.

  “No egg. Thanks.”

  RJ grabs a sandwich and a coffee and keeps a cautious distance as he eats at his desk. I think he’s still worried that if I end up behind bars, he’ll get saddled with the guilt trip. Ultimately, it was his digging around that precipitated my sudden eruption of conscience.

  I’ve tried to tell him he’s in the clear, but I suppose when all the facts become known, he’s worried David might not see things the same way. If I have any say in it, RJ has nothing to worry about.

  “I don’t think it’s up to us,” I tell Dad, who’s getting himself all spun up again.

  “We’ll see,” Dad says, accepting the challenge.

  Much as my appetite has evaporated over the last few hours, I shove some food in me anyway. It helps settle the nerves. A little.

  I’m slugging back the rest of my coffee when Dad’s phone rings. He yanks it out of his pocket, muttering, “Finally.” Then he barks, “What’s the latest, John?”

  He strides away, pacing with the phone to his ear and his eyes on the floor. He nods a lot, which doesn’t feel like a terrible sign.

  “Yeah?” His head snaps up. “You’re certain?”

  My father’s attention falls on me, but I can’t decipher his expression.

  “All right. We’ll circle back this evening, then.” He pockets the phone, a strange smile on his face as he turns toward us. “That was the lawyer. You’re off the hook.”

  RJ’s chair creaks as he rocks forward. “Wait, what?”

  “Seriously?” I nearly choke trying to swallow. “How?”

  “They dropped the charges. John still isn’t clear as to why. He hadn’t even gotten the DA on the phone yet.”

  “So that’s it?” RJ asks, echoing my own confusion. “Fenn’s in the clear?”

  “Appears so. John’s going to see what else he can find out, but it looks like we got lucky this time. Clearly, they came to their senses and realized there was no benefit in demonizing a good Samaritan for their own failures.”

  Call me a pessimist, but I have a hard time believing the police woke up this morning deciding to be nice guys. In my experience, that’s not their standard operating procedure. RJ and I exchange a look across the room. If this year has taught us anything, it’s to wait for the other shoe that’s undoubtedly about to drop.

  Nothing is this easy.

  “Okay, then.” Dad shakes his head, looking pleased. “I’ll head back to the hotel and check out.” He pauses, giving me an uncertain smile. “Unless you’d like me to stick around a while? Make sure everything’s settled?”

  “Huh? No, get out of here. You’re cramping our style,” I say with a grin.

  “Or you can come home for a few days. Get your mind off things. I can tell the headmaster there’s a family matter. Both of you,” he adds to RJ.

  “It’s fine,” I insist. “I’m good here.”

  “Same,” RJ pipes up. “Just don’t make me go to class. I thought this waiting-for-the-lawyer-to-call vigil was going to last all day. I mentally prepared myself for it, therefore I shouldn’t be forced to attend classes.”

  I waggle my eyebrows at my dad. “If RJ leaves now, he could make it for second period…”

  “Fuck off,” my stepbrother grouses, throwing his empty wrapper at me.

  I catch it easily. “Hey, it’s not my fault you’re not suspended.”

  “Not something to brag about, Fennelly,” Dad scolds, but his lips are twitching with humor. “All right. I’m heading out.”

  We aren’t a hugging family—we’ve barely been a prolonged-period-in-the-same-room family for the last several years—but in the interest of reconciliation, I get up and give him an awkward one-armed hug.

  “Thanks for coming,” I say gruffly. “It means a lot.”

  “Of course.” The hug is uncomfortable for both of us, out of practice as we are. Still, it’s progress. “Anything you need, I’m always here. You too, RJ.” Dad grabs his jacket and slips it on. “Okay, I’ll get out of your hair. Anything you think of, give me a call. We’ll see you on Thanksgiving.” He stops at the door. “Oh, and I do expect both of you to join us for a family trip over the holidays. Michelle’s not taking no for an answer.”

  I roll my eyes, because of course he’d use this ordeal as a bargaining chip on the dreaded Christmas vacation.

  “Yeah, okay,” I groan. “But this is blackmail, you know.”

  “Tell her to go easy on the mother-son pedicures,” RJ interjects. “And we get our own room.”

  Satisfied, Dad nods. “Good. Talk soon.”

  There’s a learning curve to this for all of us. We’re a bunch of loners trying to figure out how to live with one another. How to make something new out of bits and pieces of our old lives. I have a feeling it’s bound to get messy, but I guess it’s past time we stop resisting the inevitable. We’re a family now. Come hell or high water.

  “So that’s something.” RJ carries his breakfast to the coffee table to sit beside me on the sofa. “What do you think happened?”

  “No idea. Maybe it’s like he said. They didn’t want the negative attention?”

  “Somehow I doubt it.”

  As if spinning our wheels manifested it, there’s a soft knock on our door. RJ quickly hops up to answer it.

  “Hey. Is Fenn here?”

  Casey.

  My heart stops at the sound of her voice.

  I leap to my feet, peering over RJ’s shoulder to find her giving me a tentative smile. She texted yesterday asking if I was okay and if there were any updates, so I guess Sloane relayed to her that I’d turned myself in. It took all my willpower not to call her, to turn to her for comfort and hear her say that everything was going to be all right.

  I resisted that urge because it’s time to stop dragging Casey Tresscott into all my messes. She doesn’t deserve the turmoil, the uncertainties. I meant every word when I told her I had to walk away from her. I’ve already caused so much damage in her life, broken off pieces of her innocence one by one. I’d never be able to live with myself if I hurt her again.

  And yet here she is on my doorstep, those blue eyes full of concern for me.

  “Can we talk alone?” she asks.

  RJ looks to me for an answer, noting my slight nod before he holds the door open to let her in. “No sweat.”

  A second later he’s gone, silently shutting the door behind him.

  I’m suddenly terrified to be in a room with her. Embarrassed for what I’ve done to her and still feeling my own fresh wounds. Overwhelmed by the history between us, yet also the sense we’ve become strangers, two people who’ve forgotten how to talk to each other.

  She smooths out the front of her purple sweatshirt, the oversized one she likes to pair with black leggings. It’s one of my favorite outfits. Cute and unassuming and so perfectly Casey.

  “You probably don’t want to see me, I know, but this felt like something I had to say in person.”

  “Why aren’t you at school?”

  She shrugs. “The answer to that is related to what I came here to say.”

  “Okay,” I say awkwardly.

  I sit on the edge of my bed and nod to invite her over. Seems rude somehow to have a heart-to-heart over a half-eaten sausage-and-egg sandwich.

  “I just got back from the police station.”

  My gaze flies to hers. “What? Why?”

  “The lead detective who worked my case—Carillo? He’s the one with the forehead mole and the terrible haircut?”

  I snicker. “Yeah. I know who you mean.”

  “He called early this morning and asked us to come into the station. Me and my dad. So we drove out there and sat down with Carillo and the police chief—can’t remember his name. They asked me a bunch of questions about you and Gabe and prom night.”

  “Yeah. I figured that would happen. What did you tell them?”

  “Exactly what I told them last time. We went over what I remember—and what I don’t remember. I told them about the flash of memory I had about offering someone a ride and how they may have been wearing pink, but they sort of brushed it off.”

  Anger tightens my chest. Would it kill these assholes to take this case seriously? A girl almost died, for fuck’s sake.

  Casey sees my frustration and nods. “Trust me, I know. They’re basically useless. Anyway, they listed all the charges against you and said they wanted to discuss the next steps with us.”

  My shoulders snap straight. It suddenly occurs to me I know where this is going.

  “I told them that as far as I’m concerned, you risked your own safety to rescue me that night,” Casey continues, confirming my suspicions. “Whatever else you did or didn’t do, it doesn’t matter. You had nothing to do with the drugs or driving the car into the lake. You couldn’t be sure what the jacket meant—all you had was a theory. I said that you made a mistake, but you’re not a criminal. And that they’d never get me to testify against you.”

  “Damn it, Casey.”

  I can’t sit still and launch myself off the bed, raking both hands through my hair.

  “I was ready to accept responsibility for what I did,” I tell her. Frustrated. “You don’t need to protect me.”

  “Do you remember what you said to me the night after the party last month? After you carted me away like a caveman?” She cocks her head. “You said you’ll be here to save me every time. Well, that’s a two-way street, Fenn. I protected you, just like you’ve always tried to do for me.”

  I drop down on the bed beside her. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Agree to disagree,” she says with the slightest hint of a smile. “So, I take it they already delivered the news? That they’re dropping all charges?”

  “Yeah, the lawyer called right before you got here. I’m in the clear.”

  She nods, pleased. “Perfect. Okay. Now that that’s out of the way, which would you like to hear first—the good news or the bad news?”

  “Huh?”

  “Good or bad? Pick.”

  “Good,” I answer on instinct, because I’ve received enough bad news this year to last a lifetime.

  “The good news is, my dad recognizes that you saved my life and has agreed to let us keep seeing each other. As in, actual dating. Not just friendship.”

  My heart stops dead in my chest.

  “What?” I don’t understand what she’s saying to me.

  She ignores my stunned expression. “The bad news is, we’re relegated to walks with the dogs for a month and maaaybe the occasional dinner invitation. With Dad present, of course. After that, movie nights might be on the table. Oh! More good news: We can go to the Snow Ball together. Quickly followed by bad news: Lucas, Sloane, and RJ have to come with us, and we’re not allowed to slow dance.” Casey grins. “But what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”

  I’m dazed. Just staring at her, unable to comprehend what is happening.

  “Casey,” I finally say.

  “Uh-huh?”

  I swallow the lump that rises in my throat. “We said goodbye.”

  “No, you said goodbye. And I’m rejecting it. I want to be with you, Fenn.” She licks her lips, then presses them together. Unsure. “Do you want to be with me?”

  The lump gets larger, choking me. I clear my throat. “Why are you so determined to keep giving me more chances?”

  “Because you’re worth it.”

  I start to laugh, utterly amazed by this girl. I swear, I don’t know what to make of her.

  “But if we do this,” she continues, “I need you to let go of this idea you have about how I’m supposed to be. Sweet, innocent Casey, who needs your constant coddling. I don’t need that, Fenn. You didn’t know me well before the accident. Yes, I can be sweet, but I also lash out when I’m mad. I can be inexperienced, but also want to go skinny-dipping. I might wake up from nightmares sometimes or cry over an injured animal, but I’m not weak.”

  “I know that,” I say thickly.

  “I’m not the same person I was back in the spring,” she admits. “I feel like parts of me have changed. I feel stronger. And I can’t go forward with you unless I know you can accept me for exactly who I am, not who you want me to be.”

  “Casey, you’re one of the strongest people I know. Hands down,” I assure her, smiling faintly. “And I will be by your side when you hand those bitchy girls at school their asses or when you want to go skinny-dipping or do something wild and crazy. I’ll be by your side no matter what. Ride or die. So, yes, of course I accept you for who you are.” I stare at her. “What I don’t get is how you’re able to accept me? I screwed us up.”

  “Look. You lied,” she says frankly. “That hurt me. But I also understand that you found yourself in an impossible predicament and made a split-second decision that turned out to be a mistake. You’ve owned up to it. That’s the best I can ask.”

  “If I’d been a better person, I wouldn’t have waited so long,” I point out.

  “Either way, I forgive you.”

  Those three little words affect me in a way I didn’t expect. It feels like coming up for air. I’ve spent months clawing for the surface, never getting any closer to the light, and then suddenly, sky.

  My voice shakes as I say, “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

  “I do,” she says softly. “Because I need to ask your forgiveness too. I was so angry, I didn’t care if you got hurt. That wasn’t fair either. I’m sorry, Fenn. About Lawson and all of it. I wish I could make it better, but I know nothing I say changes what’s already done.”

  The reminder is like a punch to the gut. I didn’t realize until she’d dropped that bomb how deep she could cut me. How dangerous she could be. Even when she wasn’t trying. Even though I deserved it.

  “You don’t belong to me,” I say through the gravel in my voice. “I have no right to tell you what to do or who to be with.”

  As much as I’d love to feel sorry for myself, it’s Lawson who owed me something. He’s the one who should have stopped it. If he gave a damn at all about our friendship. Clearly I expected too much from him.

  “That’s the thing,” Casey says, sliding her hand into mine. “This time I’m the one asking for a second chance.” She laces our fingers. “Maybe we’re doomed. Maybe we’ll screw it up again. But I’m sick of pretending I don’t want to be with you. That my heart isn’t breaking every time we walk away from each other again.”

  “Casey…” I trail off, unable to find the words.

  “Do you still have the same feelings for me?” she asks so hopefully, I nearly fall apart.

  “You know I do. But I don’t want to be the reason you settle for less than total happiness.”

  She squeezes my hand and there’s a strange kind of sparkle in her expression. “You want me to be happy?”

  “More than anything.”

  “Then let’s forgive each other, Fenn. Let’s put prom night behind us and start fresh. Or, rather, go back to how it was before all the secrets and lies came out.” She strokes my knuckles with her fingertips. “Take me to the Snow Ball this weekend.”

  Fuck me. I was ready to do it, to accept my fate. I said goodbye and left her to live a life free of all the ways I’d messed her up.

  But damned if I can say no to her. This girl has a power over me that is absolute. I’m nothing if not completely at her mercy.

  “Okay.”

  A brilliant smile fills her face. “Okay? You’ll be my date?”

  “Of course.” I bring her hand up to press my lips against it. “I’ll be your date.”

  Chapter 48

  Casey

  The theme is winter threw up on Antarctica and then Antarctica threw up on Frozen. I’ve seen enough papier-mâché penguins to last a lifetime, and I’m not quite sure who thought it was a good idea to recycle the sets from the Christmas play and stick cardboard cutouts of Elsa and Anna in the sleigh instead of Santa. For a school that receives millions of dollars in yearly donations, you’d think they’d hire some expensive designer to decorate the dances. Although I do applaud whoever hung up the hundreds upon hundreds of silver-glitter-frenched paper snowflakes dangling from the ceiling. That’s dedication.

  “This is why people drop acid,” Fenn leans in to tell me, his gaze focused on the undulating glittery snowflakes above our heads.

  We enter the gym to the chorus of some old indie-rock track I never remember the name of. My mom used to play it in the car when we were little. Reminds me of taking the long way home from the grocery store or sitting in the driveway to let the song finish. I don’t even know if they’re real memories or my imagination filling in the gaps of stories Sloane used to tell me about her. But they feel real when I hear the melody, and it makes me smile.

  “You look amazing.” It’s the third time he’s complimented my dress, smiling at its short flouncy skirt.

  A few days ago, Sloane and I went shopping in Parsons, and this cute silver number called out to me the moment I saw it. Silver in honor of my beloved Silver, whose tiny gravestone I left a bouquet of yellow mums on this week.