Giana did a little hop-like dance, blowing a streamer that sounded like a foghorn. A giant, glittery banner hung above her head, and her eyes were wide and joyful in the candlelight coming from the two and zero candles in a homemade cake on her desk.

“Hurry, before they melt,” she said, shoving me toward the candles. “Make a wish!”

I wanted to be happy. I wanted to smile. I wanted to tell her what a nerd she was and how much I adored it.

But all I could do was blow the candles out with a soft breath.

Giana clapped, removing them and setting them aside as she started cutting the cake.

“I had no idea what you liked, but I figured I couldn’t go wrong with chocolate. And sprinkles, of course. Everyone loves sprinkles.” She handed me a plate with a huge slice on it. “Shawn was at the game today. We talked a little after the media frenzy. He asked if I would be at the coffee shop to watch him at all this week.” She waggled her brows at me as she forked off a bite of her own slice of cake. “By the way, you did not have to go that hard with the last play, but I am so damn glad you did. That was incredible. The reporters were in a tizzy. You’re going to be all over ESPN tonight.”

She smiled, handing me a fork, but I couldn’t return any of her enthusiasm. And when she realized it, her smile fell.

“What’s wrong?”

I swallowed. “My mom.”

It was the only answer I could give, but fortunately, Giana didn’t press for more. Her brows folded in, and she nodded in understanding, grabbing the cake out of my hand and setting it back on her desk.

“Come on. Let’s go somewhere.”

“Where?”

“You’ll see.”

Chapter Seventeen

Clay

We were the only ones at the university observatory.

Because of course we were — it was Saturday night and our team had just won a football game against one of our rivals. Everyone else was out partying, whether at The Pit or a bar off campus.

Everyone, that was, except for me and Giana.

She hadn’t said a word on the walk over, our steps in time on the quiet sidewalk. We could hear students celebrating all across campus, but it became more and more distant as we got to the outside perimeter, and faded altogether when the off-white dome of the observatory first came into view.

A pimple-faced kid chewing bubble gum too loudly let us in, bored and barely looking up from the game he was playing on his phone.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he’d said after running over the rules for the telescopes — and the look he gave us as he left us alone told me that we had better not need anything, because he wasn’t in the helping mood.