Again, disdain bleeds from her eyes. “That stuff is crap. This stuff is good.”

“It sure is.” I steal another pinch, and she moves the bowl out of my reach. “What’cha makin’?”

She turns back to the skillet sizzling on the stove, to stir whatever she’s sautéing. “Garlic lemon chicken, with zucchini noodles.”

I groan. “What is it with you and vegetables?”

“They’re good for you. And they taste good. You’ll see.”

“You know what tastes good?” I don’t wait for her to ask, because she clearly isn’t going to. “Spaghetti. Actual noodles.”

“Well, when you cook dinner, you can boil as much starchy pasta as you want. But tonight, you’re having zucchini noodles,” she says, pointing to a big bowl where the fake noodles in question sit next to a canister of salt. “We eat in twenty minutes.”

“Great. Need any help?”

She props her hands on her hips, over the ties of a worn, stained kitchen apron. It was dad’s, so it’s big on her. “Do you know how to juice a lemon?”

“Um … Ask it nicely to release its tart nectar?”

Landry rolls her eyes. “No, I don’t need any help. Thanks, though.”

I steal one more pinch of parmesan on my way out of the kitchen, then I text Jake.

call?

His reply comes as I close myself into my bedroom.

just a sec

My phone rings a minute later.

“Hey,” I say into it as I sink onto my bed and lean back on my pillow.

“Hey,” Jake says. “What’s up?”

We haven’t spoken since his parents basically kicked me out of his house last night.

“Did you hear rumors about my parents last year?”

He huffs into my ear. “You have a strange way of starting conversations.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Over the line, I hear the familiar creak of his bedsprings. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I mean, yeah, I heard things.”

“What things? About my dad?”

“Yeah.” I can practically hear him shrug one shoulder, the way he does when he doesn’t really want to tell me something.

“What did you hear? Was it more than just the rehab thing?”

“I feel like you’re fishing for something specific, Beck.”

“I’m trying to figure something out. What did you hear?”

Jake sighs. “I heard your dad got arrested for stealing drugs from the hospital.”

“Drugs?”

“Prescription painkillers. Oxy. Vicodin. Stuff like that.”

“Hmmm …”

“What? Is that not what you thought I’d say?”

“Amira heard he was arrested for stealing a prescription pad and forging signatures.”