Mom didn’t say anything for a moment as she watched me. I sighed as I sat back, knowing she was about to say something I didn’t want to hear. She had that “Mom” look about her. “Honey,” she started, and my suspicions were confirmed. “I was talking to Mrs. Banks about what happened. You know, she’s the school counselor.”

Oh. Dear. God.

“And she suggested what I thought would be best,” she continued carefully. “I think you should talk to someone about what happened to you.”

“What?” My jaw hit my lap. “You’re kidding, right?”

Mom frowned. “Honey, you’re going to school to be a psychiatrist—”

“Psychologist,” I corrected.

Her frown deepened. “Anyway, you know how important it is for people to talk things out and not hold them in.”

I resisted my urge to roll my eyes. I did know how important that was. And while those moments with Zach had been the scariest in my life—and there were still moments where it haunted me—I didn’t need to talk about it and soak up a therapist’s time that could be better spent helping someone who needed it.

“Mom, I don’t need to talk to anyone. I’m okay. Really, I am. I promise.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Then why have you been moping around this house like someone kicked your puppy into the street?”

I made a face, but my stomach dropped. “That’s real nice, Mom.”

“You know what I mean.”

Tracing the grain in the wood of the tabletop, I shrugged.

“I haven’t been moping around.”

“Yes, you have.” She picked up her cup and stood, taking it over to the sink, where she washed it out before slipping it into the dishwasher. When she finished, she faced me and crossed her arms. “I have never seen you so listless and unhappy this close to Christmas before. So if it wasn’t what happened to you, then what is it?”

“It’s nothing. I’m just in a mood or something.”

Mom sighed. “Honey, you know you can talk to me, right? About anything. You’re not too old for that.”

“I know.” But what was bothering me was something I was so not talking to my mom about.

Her lips pursed. “Is it Kyler?”

Ah, there it was. That horrible sinking feeling expanded through me at the mention of his name. My entire body locked up, and a hollow feeling poured into my chest. It was like being punched and knocked down. Kyler. Kyler. Kyler. I’d tried not to think about him since I’d left Snowshoe. That was as easy and fun as playing Frogger on the interstate.

Kyler consumed my thoughts no matter what I did. And the worst part? Two out of the three nights I’d dreamt about him. God, it made me lamer than normal.

But I did know something I’d never really known before.