I had a vague idea that I wouldn’t need to confront Cole at all. I would tell Lucas—and once he knew, once he saw, he’d be the one to confront Cole. All afternoon Lucas dozed on his bed, his wrapped hand cradled on his chest like a wounded creature.

I slipped into the room and stood watching him. He opened his eyes. We looked at each other. I was going to tell him, but he spoke first.

“You thought Cole did this to me,” he said. He shook his head. His eyes looked so hurt. “Cole saved me. Why can’t you see that?”

“I see that now,” I said.

“You weren’t even here,” Lucas said. “You were gone again. I could have died. He was here to save me.”

“What do you mean, gone again? I never go anywhere. You’re the one who told Cole I’m afraid to leave the island.”

“You left when mom was sick.”

“I didn’t leave when mom was sick. I came back when mom was sick.”

“Cole said—I mean, I see it, too—it’s actually pretty obvious, and I guess I should have seen it a long time ago—you don’t want us to all be together. You’ve never wanted us all to be together. You couldn’t wait to get out of here, don’t you remember? You left even though Mom was sick. And now—”

“I didn’t leave Mom here sick. I came back.”

“I can’t remember how it happened.”

“I’m telling you how it happened.”

“Cole says—”

“Cole wasn’t here, so he doesn’t know.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lucas said, his voice rising. “I found your folder in the pantry, okay? With all your applications and forms for college. When were you planning to tell me? You know what? It doesn’t matter. Go to college. Or go off with that kid from Carson Cove. I can’t stop you. You have a life to live.”

My throat ached. I was so mad I had to leave the room—before I shouted or threw something at him.

I saw it again—like a dream—like a sudden head-splitting vision—the other life. That city I would have gone to, the street with its tall buildings, its doorways and windows, its people, all those faces, all those hearts moving their bodies toward inevitable outcomes. Every day that other life felt more and more unreachable.

Did I want something other than this life? Yes. Of course I did. But it was too late. Just look what I gave up to stay here with you! I wanted to scream it through the walls. My bedroom, with its tiny bed, it was too small, there was no room to move, no way to breathe. Look at all I gave up. I gave that life up, and here I am, and there’s no way out.