My bedroom was weird in a way, like a time capsule. Never bothered me before, but right now? I wanted to take a sledgehammer to the room. I was embarrassed by the brown and white teddy bears stacked near the pillows. I picked one up, a red bear Kyler had given me for my eleventh birthday. Pain sliced my chest, and I placed the bear back down and turned away from my bed. I was bored with the overstocked bookcases. I couldn’t care less about the ribbons Mom had tacked on the wall above my desk, hanging in a line next to the academic awards I’d accumulated throughout high school. There were newspaper cuttings of the Dean’s List. I started to straighten one of the frames, but stopped and left it the way it was. Crooked. Unbalanced. Imperfect.

Turning away from the awards, ribbons, and clippings, I picked up my old cell phone off the bed and slipped it into my pocket. I headed downstairs, finding Mom in the kitchen. Dad was still at the office. Some things never changed, including his late nights.

The whole lower floor smelled like apple pie and cinnamon—usually my favorite. Mom looked up from the magazine she was poring over as I dropped into the seat in front of her. “Are you still going out with Andrea tonight?”

Dropping my elbows on the table, I put my chin in my hands. “Yeah, she’s driving up from Frederick and picking me up in a little bit. We’re going to grab dinner.” And I had a feeling she’d be visiting Tanner later, who was home in Smithsburg, about ten minutes away.

“Good.” Mom winked. “I didn’t put enough chicken in the oven to feed you and your father.”

“Nice.”

She laughed softly as she flipped a page. “Has your lip been bothering you?”

“No. It’s fine.” And it practically was. Just a little mark was on it, near the corner, and my jaw didn’t hurt anymore. “I hope you’re not worrying about it.”

“Of course I’m worrying about it. What you went through?” She took a deep breath and closed the magazine. Looking up, she fixed dark eyes on me. “Honey, I—”

“I really don’t want to talk about it.” I placed my hands on the kitchen table. “I’m fine. It’s over. In the past.”

“Until the case goes to court,” she reminded me gently.

“He might plead guilty, and then I won’t have to testify or anything.” And God, I really hoped that was the case. “Anyway, if I have to do it, I’ll do it.”