“I have some experience with complicated love,” Eileen replies, suggesting some truth to the rumors I’ve heard. “And…I saw the way you two were looking at each other when he was here last month.”

“Pretty sure you misread things on his end.” Despite my best attempts, plenty of bitterness saturates my voice.

Eileen hums. “It’s harder to see love up close.”

“There’s definitely no love to see.” If the radio silence of the last couple of weeks wasn’t enough to tell me so, pushing me toward another guy sure was.

Eileen picks up a couple of the bowls that have already been filled. Gives me an understanding smile. “I hope you’re wrong.”

She takes the bowls toward the far kennel, starting to distribute dinner among the dogs.

The sad thing is, even after everything, I hope so too.

* * *

I’m close to home, running through a mental checklist of the work I need to finish tonight, when I realize I forgot my Calculus textbook in my locker.

I rushed out of school as soon as the final bell rang, eager to get to the animal shelter. Actively avoiding Holden. Not that he was trying to talk to me.

I turn around in a random driveway and speed back toward the high school.

The lot is almost empty. I forcibly shove back the memories of the last time I was here with so few cars as I park right in front of the school. Quiet hallways greet me as I enter the building and hurry toward my locker. There’s no one else around. I grab the textbook I need and retrace my steps back outside.

I’m halfway to my car when movement catches my attention out of the corner of my eye.

My heartbeat stops and stutters before I realize the tall frame doesn’t belong to the boy I’m avoiding.

Harrison smiles as he approaches, as friendly as ever. “Hi, Cassia.”

“Hi, Harrison,” I reply.

We haven’t spoken since he brought over Chris’s soccer ball in the parking lot after the senior trip. Honestly, that’s the last time I thought about him—until Holden brought him up at the basketball court.

“How’ve you been?” he asks.

“Um, okay.”

Harrison nods, understanding. He knows I’m best friends with Sydney. Which is useful, honestly. I’d be just as affected by Mr. Adams’s death if Holden had been his only child because it affected Holden. It’s easier to hide how much I care about Holden under the guise of how recent events have affected my best friend, which makes me feel spectacularly shitty.

“You doing anything tonight?”

“No,” I answer, honestly. Sydney is going over to Graham’s. I was planning to watch a documentary and go to bed early, like a geriatric spinster.

“Jack Randall is having a party. If you want to hang out…I’ll be there.”