Mom points a finger in his face. “When my mother left me in charge of Siren’s Book Nook, I moved my daughter back here with the assumption that this was a kinder, better Beauty. I was told by the board of selectmen that I was going to be accepted back into the fold as a respected member of this community—”

“Ma’am,” he says impatiently.

“Don’t you ‘ma’am’ me. I’m thirty-six years old, not a decrepit spinster on her deathbed.”

“I didn’t—”

“And furthermore,” she says a little louder, speaking over him. “I’m not going to allow Levi Summers to hump my leg in a show of dominance. So you can do yourself a favor and scamper off to your master.”

“Mom,” I caution, but she’s too caught up in being my hero. This right here? This is our problem. Quick to anger, way too defensive of each other. Oh, she’ll bite my head off in private later, but she’ll never in a million years admit to another person that I did anything wrong.

“Hold up,” another officer says, striding up to the room. “She’s free to go. Karras admitted to breaking the window.”

“What?” Mom and I say in chorus.

“The Karrases said they’d get a lawyer and agreed to appear at the arraignment. It’s all settled. Your daughter is free to go with you, Ms. Saint-Martin,” he says to my mother. “Word of advice? Keep her away from Lucky. Have a good night.”

What the ever-loving hell is happening?

If people here expect you to be something, it’s easy for them to continue believing it.

People here think that Lucky 2.0 is trouble.

He told the police he threw the rock.

He saved me?

A funny kind of panic swirls around my stomach and grips my chest. I don’t understand this. No one is ever nice to me for no good reason, and Lucky doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who just goes around doing good deeds. One minute I was in the middle of a sob fest—telling him stuff I shouldn’t have told him—and the next …

He was taking the fall for me.

For me.

For me?

“Oh, thank God, thank God, thank God !” Mom says, shoulders sagging. “Of course you didn’t do this, right?”

“Uh …”

“Jesus. You scared the life out of me. Come on. Let’s go home before someone sees my car parked here,” she says with an anxious little laugh.

In a daze, I push through the front door and inhale a lungful of early summer air. Freedom, sure, only it doesn’t feel all that sweet. I glance around the parking lot, looking for Lucky and his parents, but they’re long gone.