Emma exited the car and slammed the door. “H-hey,” she said tentatively, her gaze on Garrett’s face. The corners of his pink mouth curved into a scowl. His soft brown eyes blazed. His blond hair was sweaty from practice. He sat at the very edge of the porch seat like a cat ready to pounce.

Laurel followed her up the driveway, waved at Garrett, and headed inside.

Slowly, Emma walked up the porch steps, standing a safe distance away from Garrett. “How are you?” she asked in a small voice.

Garrett made an ugly noise at the back of his throat. “How do you think I am?”

The automatic sprinklers hissed on in the front yard, misting the plants. In the distance, a weed whacker growled to life. Emma sighed. “I’m really sorry.”

“Are you?” Garrett palmed his helmet with his large hands. “So sorry you didn’t return my calls? So sorry you won’t even look at me right now?”

Emma took in his strong chest, toned legs, and just a hint of stubble on his chin. She understood what Sutton had seen in him, and her heart panged that he didn’t know the truth.

“I’m sorry.” The words lodged in Emma’s throat. “It’s been a weird summer,” she said. That was an understatement.

“Weird as in you met someone else?” Garrett balled his fist, making the muscles in his forearms pop.

“No!” Emma took a startled step back, almost bumping into the wind chimes Mrs. Mercer had hung from the eaves.

Garrett wiped his hands on his shirt. “Jesus. Last month you were into this. Into me. Why do you hate me all of a sudden? Is this what everyone warned me about? Is this classic Sutton Mercer?”

Classic Sutton. The words echoed painfully in my ears, a refrain I’d heard so many times over the past few weeks. From my new vantage, I’d begun to realize how badly I used to treat people.

“I don’t hate you,” Emma protested. “I just . . .”

“You know what? I don’t care.” Garrett slapped the sides of his legs and stood. “We’re done. I don’t want your excuses. I’m not falling for your games anymore. This is just like what you did to Thayer. I should have known.”

Emma recoiled at the harshness of Garrett’s voice—and at the mention of Madeline’s brother.

Thayer. Just hearing his name made his clear green eyes, high cheekbones, and mussed dark hair flicker across my mind. And then, I saw something else: an image of the two of us standing in the school courtyard. Tears streamed down my face as Thayer talked to me in urgent tones, as if he were trying to get me to understand something, but the memory flaked apart at my fingertips.

Emma struggled to regain her voice. “I’m not sure what you think I—”