“Ruth!” Mom called out. But I climbed the stairs, grabbed a bag, and rammed everything I owned inside it. Mom came to the bottom of the staircase. “Please,” she called up, but without conviction. She didn’t mean it; she didn’t climb the stairs; she didn’t want me. None of them had wanted me, not since Pim died. Hal was the only one who understood me. Who made me feel any sense of happiness, who made me feel like I belonged.

When Hal pulled up at the end of our driveway a couple of hours later, his face was busted up, lip bleeding, left eye swollen shut. I put everything of mine into his trunk, and I slammed it shut. What else could I do?

“Are you going to be okay?” Alex had the gall to ask me before I got into his car. I laughed right in her face.

Mom came out and stood on the porch, not waving as Hal and I pulled away from the farm and roared south toward the highway, the house and my family a dwindling flicker in the dust of the rearview mirror.

PART THREE
THE THIEF

ALEX

It’s late now, but still I can’t bring myself to go back to the loft. Chase will have too many questions; I don’t have the strength to answer them. I sit for a while on a park bench watching the moms with their little kids. At the top of a slide, a girl of about five waves at me as she gets set to go. Look at me, she’s saying. I can do this; I’m this brave. For a second I worry that she’ll topple backward. But she’s done this before; she has a good grip on the metal siding. I wave back but can’t muster a smile. Every minute that passes, I fight the urge to text Sully. Already I’m so muddled. If I tell Sully anything, I’m in danger of telling him everything, and it doesn’t seem fair to Chase.

When I finally get back to the loft, Chase is showering, but Ruth is sitting on a stool in the kitchen. She turns when I come in and all but pounces.

“It wasn’t me,” she says immediately. “I don’t know how many different ways I can tell you. I never showed him that photograph of Pim.”

I don’t answer. I can’t play this game anymore.

“And you know what?” She shifts in her seat, jabs a forefinger in the air. “Your rule about not talking about the past was crazy. Nobody lives like that. It was an impossible thing to ask.”

I sigh and close the front door. “Well, apparently it wasn’t a rule you took seriously anyway.”