He takes his glasses off and wipes at them slowly, a surprised expression on his lined face. His eyes crinkle as he squints at me. “I don’t remember you being quite this…assertive.”

“There’s a lot that’s different about me, Mr. Trask.”

He runs his gaze over my hair, giving me a long, searching look and then a sigh and a nod. “I see that, and I’m sorry for it. Deeply.”

Just give me what I need.

He smiles briefly. “Let me make some phone calls and get back to you by the end of the day. Will that work?”

Nodding, I move to the door. “He’s the only thing I’m living for right now. If he’s not near me, this”—I wave my hands around—“is a no-go. I won’t sign anything.”

He nods. “End of day, I’ll let you know.”

I walk out of the office and, lo and behold, Mrs. Carmichael has a pass ready.

I saunter out into the hall, feeling proud that Ava 2.0 does indeed have a backbone.

All I have is this one year to set everything right, and if I’m going to be miserable here, at least my brother will get a fresh start.

6

Class with Ava has me extra wired. Sitting next to her was intense, the smell of her hair when she moved, the way her lips puckered when she was pissed at me, and those eyes—don’t even get me started. I don’t like the heightened emotions she brings out in me, how she has this ability to goad me with just a look.

And when she touched me? Oh, fuck nah. I didn’t dig that at all.

But right now it’s my brother I’m thinking about. He missed gym class, and I was barely able to force myself to sit still until the bell rang before going to look for him.

I open the door to the workout room inside the field house and there he is, pounding his gloved fists into the professional sparring bag hanging from the ceiling. Sweat drips down his face as he pummels the bouncing apparatus again and again.

Eminem blares from his phone, and I jog over and turn it off. He ignores me, face red and inscrutable as he continues his workout.

I cross my arms, watching him. “You missed the sprints Coach asked us to do on the field. We went over plays for our opening game and you weren’t even there. Gym is still a class. You get a grade for it.”

“I’m sure he won’t mind me missing one day.” He barks out a laugh. “But you…if you missed, there’d be hell to pay.”

“We’re a team, Dane. I just want you to stay focused. Football helps with your mood swings.”

He shrugs, grabs a towel, and wipes his face.

Exasperation makes my voice rise. “You’re acting off, almost—”

“Crazy?” His voice trembles around the edges as if he’s fighting emotion.

I stiffen and narrow my eyes. “You’re not crazy, but I don’t think you’ve dealt with what happened at the bonfire party. I know it brings back all those memories of Mom—”

“Oh and you have? PLEASE. You’re just as messed up as I am—you just hide it better. You run around in secret and dig up everyone’s past. Tell me, does she know you know everything about her?”

I exhale. “No.”

He studies me. “I don’t know what you’re doing with her, but it’s weird. I don’t trust it.” He brushes past me to head to the showers, but I grab his arm.

“Forget her. I know you’re using again, and I don’t mean pot and Molly. You’re doing the hard stuff—”

“So?” He tilts his head, and in that moment, his vulnerable expression reminds me of Mom’s then I’m sucked back into the past and seeing her floating face down in our pool still wearing her nightgown. I swallow thickly, trying to push those images away, but little tendrils of those last memories sneak in until I can see Dane and me coming home from school, calling her name. Usually, she’d be at the piano, pretending to play even though I knew she’d grown to despise it, or she’d be knitting, not anything in particular, just a long, knotty rope of nothing.

The night before, she and Dad had had one of their epic arguments—he wanted her to go back to the mental health facility, had begged her to listen to reason while she screamed at him to just leave her and never come back. The reverberations of that suffering emotion had lingered even when we’d left that morning, us heading to school and Dad off to New York for a business deal.

I rub the scar on my face.

Dane flinches, watching me. “Stop thinking about Mom.”

Ignoring that, I forge on, “Look, I can’t walk in on you overdosed, you feel me? Not like Mom. You’re the only person I care about, and if you leave me, who the hell is going to remind me that I’m a dick and shouldn’t be keeping tabs on Ava Harris?”

He looks away from me.

I study his face. “Dane.”

“Knox.”

“Stop with the attitude.”

He heaves out a sigh. “Why? Dad isn’t coming back for another week, and don’t you think he should be?”

I give him a quizzical look. Dad said he’d be back today.

He smirks. “Suzy sent the text. Guess you haven’t checked your phone.”

I exhale, dropping his arm. Suzy is our nanny and lives at our house off and on, keeping an eye on us, cooking dinner and making sure the fridge is stocked and the grounds are taken care of. She’s really more personal assistant than nanny now.

A flicker of defeat crosses his face. “I hate him, you know.”

“No, you don’t. He’s our dad.” And he’s just as screwed up as we are. “If you’re doing this to punish him, the only person you’re hurting is you. And me.” I sigh. “If Liam is encouraging you to do the hard stuff, he isn’t your friend, Dane. Don’t be stupid when it comes to him.”

Dane’s been in this strange spiral since the kegger. He was out of control that night, too, high as shit, all over Ava, dancing with her, his hands on her waist—

As if he knows what I’m thinking, he says, “I didn’t do that to her, brother.”

He may be screwed up, but underneath that screwed-up exterior, no is no.

He’d never assault a girl.

I know my own brother.

“Does seeing her bother you?” I ask. “Maybe you should talk to someone.”

He gives me a look. “I’m not Mom. I’m fine. I have meds.”

He’s done therapy on and off, but now, I sense more is wrong, and I’m never wrong when it comes to him. And Ava is back.

“What do you remember from that night? Tell me again.”

He shoves a hand through his hair. “Not much.”

I’ve caught his little looks at her. I mean, we’ve all checked her out. It’s hard not to notice her. She’s devastatingly beautiful, although I don’t think she knows it. There’s no fake there. No expensive perfumes. No makeup except for those lips. Maybe it’s the way she smiles, just a little curve when she’s amused, her lips pouty and full.

Dane shrugs. “I thought she was pretty, but she wasn’t part of our crowd.” A smirk flashes. “Plus, I avoid the nice girls—just like you. She’s the one girl who never gave you a second glance. I like that about her for sure. Shit, the way she looked at you during class was the best laugh I’ve had in months. She hates your guts—”