She so didn’t need this. Quinn inhaled to lay into him, but Tyler plucked the phone out of her hand. “Hey, man, this is Quinn’s friend Tyler. Are you all right where you are, or do you want us to come get you?”

His voice was level, easy, very we’re-all-bros-in-this-together. And Jordan was responding, from the bits she could hear. Quinn stared at Tyler, wondering if she should grab the phone or kiss him.

Then Tyler said, “No, you’re right. It sucks, kid. It does. Look, see if you can get a pen. I’ll give you my number. If you change your mind, call me. We’ll come get you. All right?”

Then he gave his number, got her brother to promise to use it, and pushed the button to end the call.

Quinn couldn’t stop staring at him. She’d never met anyone like him, so self-assured and confident yet not completely into himself.

“What?” said Tyler.

She shook herself. “Nothing. Let’s get out—”

She froze. Her mother stood by the corner leading to the galley kitchen. A threadbare bathrobe clung to her frame, and Quinn was glad the belt seemed securely knotted, because the drooping shoulder showed that her mom wasn’t wearing anything beneath the terry cloth. She’d showered at some point, because her hair had dried into unbrushed clumps, but from the waves of alcohol emanating from her, she’d been hitting the bottle since then.

The expression in her eyes was terrifying. A trophy was clutched in one hand. A basketball trophy. One of Jake’s.

Quinn wasn’t sure whether to be relieved her mom was still alive, or disgusted that she was obviously still obsessed with Jake’s success.

Then her mother spoke.

“How could you do that?” she said, her voice cracked and raw. And slurring. She took a few steps toward the couch. “How could you, Quinn?”

Quinn swallowed. “I didn’t—I didn’t do—”

“Shut up! Shut up! You’re out whoring around and now you—”

“I’m not whoring around!” Quinn was on her feet, ready to get in her mother’s face.

“Take it easy.” Tyler had a hand on her arm, and his voice was quiet. “Let’s just walk out.”

“Shut up!” Quinn’s mom shrieked. “You were here, too! You did this! He had a future, you bitch! You screw up everything! Everything!”

“I didn’t do anything!” Now Quinn was crying, and she didn’t care. “He was—”

“Shut up!” The words were practically unintelligible with rage. “Shut the fuck up! You did this! You!”

And then, without warning, her mom crumpled to the carpet, sobbing, the trophy pressed to her face.

Quinn stood there, shaking. She couldn’t breathe. She didn’t know what to do.

Tyler’s voice was low. “Let’s get out of here, Quinn.”