“I’m going to go,” she says, an apologetic look on her face as her eyes dart between Cole and me. “I’m really sorry, Jordan.”

She ducks her head and rushes past me, toward the house and probably straight to the bathroom, so she can change.

I turn my eyes back on Cole. His blond hair is slicked back, and he looks at me with the same eyes he had right before he told me that Nick didn’t make it.

I wish I was angrier with him.

Mostly, I’m just disappointed.

“It’s been going on a while?” I ask.

His eyes fall, and he nods solemnly. “Since your birthday party.”

You mean the one I didn’t attend?

He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders, stepping out of the pool and wrapping the towel around his waist.

“I’ve known you a long time,” he says, “and we both needed each other a lot when this started, but you were always going to move on. You know that.”

“So why did I come here at all?” I ask him. “Why keep me around?”

I could ask myself the same questions. We were both weak, hanging on to the only good thing we each had. And we ignored how by staying together we were ruining it.

I love him. He’s my friend. How could he humiliate me like this?

“You weren’t supposed to be like him,” I told him, tears pooling again.

He looks up, knowing exactly who I’m talking about. Jay was a piece of shit. Not Cole. Cole knew what I went through. Was he trying to hurt me?

“You were my friend first,” I go on. A friend is supposed to be good to you.

But he doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. It’s not his fault it ended. It’s just his fault it ended so badly.

“In our bed, too?” I ask him. “On the nights I was working?”

His silence tells me I’m right, and a wave of anger suddenly hits me. Did Pike know that Cole had her over? Or maybe other girls over?

But no—I stop myself, the knots in my stomach unwinding a little. He seemed as shocked as me just now.

I nod, also realizing Cole didn’t meet Elena out alone, either. He met up with her at parties, no doubt. “And all your friends knew,” I say, the betrayal becoming perfectly clear.

I’m on my own now. Aside from Cam and the ladies at the bar, I’d lost my last friend.

He approaches, stopping in front of me. “I’m going to stay with Elena for a while,” he says. “You stay here until you can—”

“Fuck you.” I raise my eyes, saying it with the same indifference as “you’re welcome.”

Heading back into the house, I don’t stop to see if Elena is gone or if she’s waiting out by Cole’s car. I pick up my bag and head to the bedroom, pulling out my cell phone and sliding down to the floor against the closed door.

I dial, the line picks up on the fourth ring, and I swipe away a silent tear as I harden my voice. “Hey, Dad.”

The next day, I stare at Cole’s and my bedroom, his stuff discarded where he left it and every last item of mine finally packed up and in the car.

I guess I’m glad I didn’t bring much. Most of my clothes fit in the two suitcases I have—one belonging to Cam that I brought when I thought I was going to leave a couple weeks ago.

But then Pike Lawson built me a garden, and it just goes to show, no man has had to do much to get me to come running back.

I laugh at myself under my breath. I will miss the garden, though.

I carry the last box through the living room, resisting the urge to take a last look at the garden through the kitchen window, and walk out the front door, seeing Pike’s truck pulling in from work.

My heart starts thumping harder. Dammit. I wish I could’ve gotten out of here before he got home. It’s not even five yet. I cut out of the lunch shift early, so I could get packed up and out of here in time, too. What’s he doing home already?

“What are you doing?” He follows me around the truck.

I shove the box into my backseat, on top of another one, and the car is just big enough to hold everything I came with. It all fits in two suitcases and three boxes. Everything else is in storage. And I don’t see me getting it out anytime soon, either. My father’s “house” doesn’t have room for a drafting table any more than my bedroom here.

“Thank you for everything,” I tell him, knowing he knows exactly what I’m doing. “You’ve been really amazing.”

“You’re leaving?” He looks confused.

I close the car door and turn to him, my stomach rolling as I swallow the lump in my throat.

“With Cole gone, and us broken up, it’s not right for me to stay,” I say. “You never had any obligation to help me, but you did, and I can’t thank you enough. I really do appreciate everything.” And then I can’t help but force a little smile for both our sakes. “Especially my cassette tapes.”

I stare at his troubled eyes, the green in the irises seeming to grow darker, and an ache hits my chest. I turn away, pretending to make sure the door’s closed to have a second to collect myself.

“My dad is letting me come home for a while.” I turn and tell him. “I’ll be okay.”

“But…”

“Oh, I forgot my purse.” I run my fingers through the top of my hair and bolt for the house, not letting him finish as I rush away.

I don’t want to argue with him, and I’m afraid if he says anything else, I’ll start crying.

I don’t want to leave, but I know I have no right to be here anymore, and maybe he’ll come into the bar from time to time to visit, right? Maybe I’ll see him around more now that I know him, and I’d recognize him.

Of course, I’m upset about Cole, too. I’ve spoken to him practically every day for the last three years.

But I want to be away from him. I don’t really like leaving Pike.

Who’s going to make him converse with people, and who’s going to sneak in the vanilla extract and cinnamon he doesn’t realize he likes in his coffee now?

I blink away the sting in my eyes, growling at myself. He’ll be fine. He survived thirty-eight years without me, didn’t he?

Plucking my purse off the couch, I open it, doing a visual inventory: cards, keys, wallet, phone…. And I close it, doing a mental check and making sure I grabbed my phone charger, my razor and shampoo from the shower, and any remaining laundry in the washer and dryer.

Shit. I forgot to replace his loofah, didn’t I? Oh, well…

I finally take a deep breath, realizing I have everything, I guess.

Walking back outside, I fix a half-smile on my face and straighten my spine. To the left, Kyle Cramer trails inside his house with a couple kids who I assume are his, but I don’t make eye contact. I don’t want the neighbors getting nosy.

“Jordan…” Pike starts in one me.

But I cut him off. “Thank you so much again. For everything.”

I head to the driver’s side and open the door, my stomach knotting into a thousand little balls, each one getting tighter and tighter.

“Jordan,” he calls again. “That car’s not ready to go. It’ll stall every time you stop.”

I give him a shaky smile. “I’ll deal with it. Really, I’m all panicked out. I don’t think much will upset me anymore. I’ll be fine.”

Pulling out my keys, I climb in. “Thanks for all the work you did on it already. You definitely didn’t need to do all that.”

“Wait,” he blurts out, sounding urgent.

I stop, unable to look at him, but I feel him take a step forward. He hesitates like he’s searching for words.

I glance up.

“Just…” He shakes his head, looking exasperated. “Move the stuff into the back of my truck. I’ll take you.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off.

“I need to finish the VW,” he says. “It needs to stay here for a couple more days. And don’t give me attitude about it. Can you all of a sudden afford a mechanic?”

Pike

Meadow Lakes. I want to laugh. There’s no meadows or lakes, and there’s certainly no lake on a meadow. It’s a sixty-year-old trailer park full of dumps propped up on cinder blocks.

Did she actually grow up here?

I’m starting to think Cole didn’t have it so bad, after all. I look around, taking in the ancient silver Airstreams mixed in with some double-wides from the 80s, broken blinds barely visible behind muddy windows, and termite-rotted exteriors, green with mildew and exposed insulation. This whole fucking place is a fire hazard waiting to happen. I don’t want her here. She doesn’t have to stay at my house, but just…not here.

Jordan sits in the seat next to me, slowly running her palms across each other and staring down blankly, lost in thought. I can’t shake the feeling that she’s trying to put off looking out the window as long as possible.

It’s not dark yet, but the sun has set, and a couple kids race out from between two mobile homes, chasing a ball. I slow down in case they run into the street.

“Right there,” Jordan says.

I glance over, seeing her gesture to my left and follow her gaze to a trailer with filthy, lime green siding, and I clench my teeth.

An AC unit protrudes from the front window, a rickety, old wooden fence wraps around the bottom, parts of it laying broken on the ground or sections just plain missing, and the porch is crowded with random junk, clothes, and a couple of loaded trash bags. Three young guys stand on the porch, smoking and talking.

“Here?” I turn and ask her.

But she just unfastens her seatbelt, preparing to get out.

“Who are those guys?” I say.

She glances up for only a moment before averting her eyes again, taking her bag. “It’s probably my stepbrother and a couple of his friends.”

I pull up in front of the trailer, since the small driveway is full, and turn off the engine.

“You have a stepbrother?” She hasn’t mentioned him.