“I can’t stay here,” Mia whispered, already thinking of the metal in her pocket. They were flat on their backs on the floor of the lighthouse. Mia didn’t know why they weren’t outside looking at the stars. They should have been looking at the stars. “I can’t be trapped. Can’t end up like them.”

“Who?”

“All of them,” Mia said. Like she knew Cash was going to be. If she did nothing, she’d end up married to him, babies on the way, one after another.

“What if . . . ?” Asher started, squeezing her fingers tighter. Neither of them acknowledged the intimacy, the way their bodies touched at the hips, shoulders, thighs. Some part of Mia told her it was strange to be here like this with Asher, but that voice came from a distance, muffled so that she only caught a few words of warning. So easy to ignore.

Mia was already shaking her head. “No. I don’t have any money saved up. Mama doesn’t have any money. I didn’t get the scholarship. I’m stuck here.”

They were silent, and Mia shook off his hand, sat up. The blade was just waiting for her fingers. Lacey had given it to her earlier with a whispered “you’ll thank me.”

“What if she wants to keep the baby?” Asher asked. “I can’t. I can’t do it, Mia. I can’t.”

“You haven’t talked to her about it yet?”

“No.” Asher said. “She doesn’t even know I know about it, I don’t think.”

The vise that had gripped her heart since Asher had turned up, swollen face and wet hazel eyes, relaxed as the point of the blade caught against the tip of her finger.

“I have an idea.”

It was stupid, so stupid. But everything seemed possible in that moment, floaty instead of tethered to reality. She had read about these cuts; they were like a high. They’d make Mia forget her life was going nowhere, make Asher forget his would be over soon, too. Mostly, though, it might be a solution to the baby. “Get her here.”

“She’s already coming,” Asher admitted. “I told her we needed to talk.”

“Perfect.” Mia’s lips tipped up. Her sluggish brain had latched onto the idea. If Monroe bled enough, surely she’d miscarry, surely. Wasn’t that what Lacey had said? Lacey knew. Mia could trust her.

They waited, Asher sitting up, Mia still sprawled on the floor.

“When the time comes, just don’t go too deep,” Mia said, and Asher’s head dipped to avoid her eyes. He was scared; she could smell it on him, sharp and unpleasant and very boy.

But he took the blade.

The power she had over him was a shameful thing, and it buzzed along her nerve endings.