“Honey, I know this is an old conversation, but you two were so close. From the moment your father brought him into the house, you were his little shadow. You thought the world of him at one point, and I know he still thinks that of you,” she said, and my free hand clenched into a ball so tight my knuckles ached. “So talking to him had to be more than okay. You were that friend to him, Jilly, and because of that, perhaps one day, you two will find your way back to each other.”

I sucked in a shallow breath, reminded of another person saying the same thing to me. “I’m not that friend anymore, Mom. It’s not like that. It will never be like that.”

“Maybe not, but the future isn’t written in stone.”

This was not what I wanted to talk about and this conversation was pointless, because I didn’t plan on seeing him again. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later, okay?”

Mom sighed, and it was a sigh of someone who was worried and not annoyed. “Okay. I’ll talk to you soon. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Hanging up the phone, I sat on the edge of my bed and found my mind wandering once more into places I’d rather it not, but it was something Mom had said—something that my friend Katie had also said to me hours before every aspect of my life had changed.

“You’re that friend, Jillian.”

I felt like that wasn’t really something I needed pointed out, but I stayed quiet as I listened to Katie Barbara break down the last decade of my life with the wisdom only a psychic stripper could lay upon you.

“You’re the friend who’s always there, no matter what. Even if you don’t want to be there, you’re still there.” She pointed the strip of extra-crispy bacon in my direction. “You’re so that friend.”

I glanced down at my scrambled eggs and sighed. How had this conversation even come up, because if I was in the possession of a Time-Turner, I would so go back and stop this from being the topic.

Beside me, Abby Ramsey shifted forward, dropping her elbows onto the table. I lifted my gaze, searching for the waitress. This would be a great time for her to ask if we wanted our checks. Problem was it was Saturday morning at IHOP and the place was . . . well, hopping.

Katie bit into her strip of bacon, which had actually been the last piece of bacon she’d swiped off my plate. “Like this weekend, for example. You haven’t been coming home during the summer. Not really, and you only have a couple of more weeks before your fall semester starts, right? But you’re here today.”