She exhales in frustration. “How am I supposed to help if I don’t even know what’s going on?”

“This is something we need to figure out on our own,” I explain. “You can’t fix everything.”

Though she seems dissatisfied with that answer, she lets me go, bidding me good-bye, and I step out of the car. I wave as I make my way up the front steps, watching her retreat down the driveway, wanting her to leave before I head inside, in case she somehow picks up on the fact that what we’ll be doing tonight is a far cry from studying.

When I can’t hear the sound of the car anymore, I turn around, inhaling deeply before knocking on the door. I wait in silence, and nothing happens. Feeling uncomfortable, I knock again.

Still nothing.

My phone shows that it’s exactly seven thirty. Zoe told me not to be late, so where is she? Lifting my hand, I prepare to try one more time before the sudden sound of raised voices startles me.

The door swings open abruptly, and Zoe bursts onto the porch, a stormy expression on her face as she brushes past me, making a beeline for her car. A man in a business suit emerges shortly after. His posture radiates pure fury, and all of it is directed at his daughter.

“We’re not done here!” he shouts, pointing at her and stalking down the steps.

“I’ve had enough,” Zoe spits out, looking at me over her shoulder. “Come on, Allie.”

The familiar melodic chime fills the air as she unlocks the vehicle, and I’m shell-shocked, too stunned to move. But then she pulls her door open, slipping inside, and I snap out of my trance, rushing to follow her. I certainly don’t want to be left alone with her father.

I scramble to get into the passenger’s side, and Zoe’s fingers shake as she struggles to get the key into the ignition.

“Fuck,” she whispers, her voice breaking.

“Zoe Elizabeth Harris!” the man roars. “If you drive away right now, I will make damn sure you regret it.”

For a moment, it looks as though Zoe hesitates. She ignores her father standing right outside her window, smoke practically coming out of his ears, and she shifts into to Drive.

The car lurches forward, and I rush to fasten my seat belt as we tear down the driveway. Her father manages to slam his fist against the trunk of the car before we’re out of his reach, causing both of us to flinch.

After we’ve made it a distance from the yard, I glance at Zoe timidly, my heart racing. Her jaw is set, and she grips the steering wheel with white knuckles, blazing a path to Boulder Trail.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine, why?”

I swallow. “Do you want to—”