Mom puts on an extra-bright pink lipstick and a fake cheery face, trying to ignore the weird vibes. I can’t do that. I know what Evie tried to do for Lucky in going to talk to Adrian. What she tried to do for me. Now she’s not only physically bruised from a car accident, Adrian has messed up his rowing season at Harvard and totaled an expensive car. I mean, just look at the cost of this lie. I’m leaving a path of total destruction around my family and this community.

I’m a walking tornado.

I can’t repair that damage right now. But I can try to make up with Evie.

Revolutionary Doughnuts sits across the street from us, about a block down. I definitely don’t need to pass by Nick’s Boatyard to get there, but when I check the usual spots for signs of Lucky’s red Superhawk motorcycle and don’t see it parked—he must be working at the department store—I find my feet heading in that direction anyway and slowly stroll down the sidewalk in front of the boatyard’s front offices.

I’m not even sure why. From the sidewalk, I see his mom working at the front desk, smiling and talking with another dark-haired girl. A cousin, maybe? A toddler is running around the desk, chasing a tiny black dog, who is chasing the black cat—the one that sleeps in the window and that’s tattooed on Lucky’s hand—and they’re all laughing as both the cat and dog make a break for a door that leads into the bays out back facing the harbor. Their laughter is so boisterous, I can hear it through the window.

Sometimes when I was little, I used to fantasize about what things would have been like if Mom and Henry had stayed together, and we’d been a family—pipe dreams that every kid has. Funny, but I never once imagined us laughing like that. Now I’m almost sorry I witnessed that scene with the dog and cat and cousins, because it’s one more thing I’ll never have.

It’s easier when you don’t know.

A short walk away from the laughter of the boatyard, the doughnut shop comes into view. It’s known for having a lot of special flavors—toffee butter crunch, apple cider angels, and some puffy Greek doughnuts they call honey dippers, which are Evie’s favorite thing in the world … and the reason I’m here.