I couldn’t lie. “Yes, ma’am.”

“The last time you were here for dinner? When you went up to her room . . . something happened?”

“Yes, ma’am.” But then I paused, thinking about how that had sounded. “No. I mean—we didn’t sleep together . . .”

“Okay . . . That’s not really my business, though. What is my business is the fact that she locked herself in her room and cried most of the night.”

I gripped the edge of the sink and let my head fall forward. “Shit.”

“It’s probably not your fault, Blake.”

“To be honest, I still don’t really know what happened. I thought things were going well—and then she kind of just shut down.”

It was silent for a moment before Mary finally sighed. “How long have you known Chloe?”

“Not long.” I raised my head and stared out the window above the sink. It was the first time I’d noticed that they had a backyard. But it was overgrown. Unusable.

“So you haven’t known her long . . . but she means something to you, right? I mean that’s why you’re here?” It came out as a question, but she wasn’t asking. Not really. “Chloe—she’s built walls around herself—ones that it took Dean and me years to break past. It hasn’t been easy. But you, Blake . . . I don’t know . . .”

I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed quiet. She continued, “She’s never invited anyone to the house before. It was kind of a big deal that you were here.”

I turned to her now, surprise clear on my face.

She nodded. “Yeah. You’re her first real friend. That’s what I’m assuming you are—friends?”

It was my turn to nod.

“Good. That’s good . . .” I could see the contemplation on her face; she was planning her next words carefully. “Chloe’s mom died when she was five. Breast cancer.”

Even though I knew that her mom had passed, I didn’t know how. I tensed and waited for the pounding in my chest to settle.

“When her mom passed away, she went to live with her Aunt Tilly. They were twins, her mom and her aunt. Her dad was never around. He bailed after finding out about the pregnancy. Tilly didn’t have kids of her own, so it was perfect . . . for a while. But then a few years later, she passed away, too. Same disease.”

I swallowed down the lump in my throat as I tried to picture Chloe. Her life. Everything that she had had to go through.

“So by the time she came to live with us, death was no stranger to her. After a couple of years, neither was cancer. She got obsessed. Fixated with it. She spent all her time reading books, searching online, learning everything possible about it.” She stopped to clear her throat; her voice came out shaky as she added, “She was withdrawn, not just from us but from the other kids here and at school. Then one day, she came home with a huge smile on her face. Something in her switched over that day. She announced to Dean and me during dinner that night that she was over it. She said that she was going to live her life to the fullest, take in the world and everything it had to offer. We thought it was great.” She sniffed and wiped the tears that were falling too fast. “But then she said that when she died of cancer, she didn’t want to leave anyone behind. She actually said, ‘You are not allowed to love me. No one can.’”

I turned and leaned against the counter behind me. I needed something to hold me up.

“Can you imagine, Blake? She couldn’t have been more than eleven at the time. And she’d decided that cancer was her future. And the saddest part is that she didn’t let that part ruin her. She was scared for the people around her.”

I rubbed my eyes, trying to hide the fact that I was close to tears. Then I cleared my throat. “So that’s why she’s . . .”

“Invisible?” Mary nodded slowly. “She’s good at what she set out to do . . . experiencing the world and all that. She never takes anything for granted. But she does it alone, and it’s sad, because she’s so easy to love.”

I nodded. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe because I knew she was right, that falling in love with Chloe would be effortless.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffed. “I’m a mess. I just love her. And I want the best for her. So if that’s having you in her life, I’m going to support you, and you’ll always be welcome here. But if you cause her pain, if you’re the reason she’s in her room crying at night, then I guess . . .” She trailed off. She didn’t need to finish her sentence. I knew what she meant.

“Anyway . . .” She perked up and inhaled deeply. “Let’s see who ends up the champion of basketskate!”

“Skateball,” I said and attempted a smile.

The house was empty when I got home, which didn’t surprise me. Neither did the army-issued footlocker sitting in the middle of my bed.

See, you’d think that my dad—being as proud as he was—would want to brag about his army days. That he would want to tell me stories about his time in Panama and the Gulf War. But he didn’t. He didn’t speak about it at all. Not to me and not to his small circle of friends. If he talked to other vets, I didn’t know about it. This was his way of talking to me. Maybe not to me as much as at me.

Normally, I’d just push it aside. Throw it under my bed and deal with it another day.

But today wasn’t like other days. After hanging out with Dean and the kids, something in me had switched. My decision about my future had always been about what I wanted versus what I thought I had to do. Now? I had no idea what I wanted.