“It’s Ella’s roommate,” she says, and her whole face softens in pain over those two syllables. It says plenty. Still, she clarifies. “Ella was my girlfriend. Her roommate, Jane, is a freshman. She doesn’t have a lot of family and I have sisters. I guess we sort of took her in. She paints, like you. Looks a little like you, too, though maybe not as short.”

I nod, digesting this. It explains the way she treats me, but it sheds zero light on the Brecken situation.

“Okay, that’s why you’re nice to me, but what about Brecken? He stole gas in a car he’s not legally supposed to drive. Then he hit a person with the same car. I know that you’re smart enough to know that if the police ever do get here, you’re going to get in some kind of trouble for all of this.”

“I seriously doubt me letting someone drive my rental car is going to be a federal issue.”

“You don’t care if you get in trouble with the police?”

Her expression darkens. “Let’s just say my concerns are larger than a rental car mishap.”

The quiet stretches between us. I’m not sure how to reply, so I take a step to the side, my boots crunching in the snow. Everything is still. The snow holds our voices close, cushioning the sound. It feels close. Private.

Finally, she takes a breath and continues. “I got a call at the airport. I was standing in line at the car rental booth. Brecken was behind me; he actually told me which line to get in. Only a couple of the places will rent to you if you’re under twenty-five.”

“Wait, Brecken was renting a car?”

She shakes her head. “He was, but he decided to let me have it as long as I dropped him home. He paid for practically half of the rental. That’s why he doesn’t have cash.”

The car door cracks open, breaking the spell of quiet between us. Brecken pokes his head out.

“What’s going on?” he asks. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Harper says without looking. “We’re fine. Just give us a minute.”

He hesitates for one minute, his expression changing as he watches her. I feel that invisible link between them again, a connection stretching across the parking lot. And then the door closes and the tether snaps. Harper meets my eyes.

“We were chatting,” she says. “Brecken commented on the flight and complimented my bag. Small stuff. Then I got this call, you know? From home. It was my mother.”

I nod.

Harper goes on, her gaze drifting downward. “I couldn’t hear her very well. She was crying so much.” She stops to take a quick, harsh breath. “The connection was bad, and there were all those stupid airport announcements.”

“It was loud in there,” I say.