Garrett looms over me, shuddering violently as if the force of his rage might literally tear him apart. Then he turns his face to me, and it’s as red and tear-streaked as my own. He’s crying, too.

I stare up at him, suddenly unable to move, my heart aching. We stay like this for a few minutes: me sitting motionless on the brink of the cliff, Garrett standing there, bruised and broken by his own anger. And in spite of everything that’s happened, I feel sorry for him.

At last he sits in the dirt next to me, his cheeks slick with tears. “I’m sorry.” He reaches out to touch me, but I flinch. He pulls his hand away, looking as wounded as if I’d slapped him.

I wipe at my eyes. The wind makes my tear-streaked cheeks feel raw.

“Were you going to throw me over the edge?” I ask, my voice small in my ears. Garrett gapes at me.

“Sutton, I would never . . .” He trails off. Slowly he holds his hands up in front of his face. Horror dawns in his eyes, and it’s like he’s looking at someone else’s hands, like he’s just now realizing how strong they are, how beyond his control. How close he had been to hurting me. He looks up at me again, and this time it’s fear that pinches his face. “I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he whispers.

I don’t say anything. It doesn’t matter what he wants anymore. Garrett has been too volatile for a long time. The attack on his sister cut something inside of him loose, and he has been out of control ever since.

The stars gleam bluish-white overhead. Garrett is slow to catch his breath, and even after he does, the occasional sob seizes his lungs. Somewhere nearby I hear twigs breaking—probably a possum or raccoon, some night creature waddling clumsily through the bushes.

“Garrett, I need to know. Did you . . . steal my car and chase . . . me?” I ask, not wanting to say Thayer’s name for fear of setting him off once more.

Garrett’s jaw drops, and I can already see the answer in his shocked face. “Someone stole your car and chased you?”

My head swims with the mysteries of this never-ending night. “Yeah . . . kind of.”

Garrett looks sickened. “Do you really think I’d do something like that?”

Our eyes meet. I force myself not to look away. “I don’t know anymore, Garrett.”

He bites his lip so hard a drop of blood wells up. Then, slowly, he crawls close to the edge of the ravine, until his feet are dangling over the side. His body sways slightly with the alcohol still clouding his brain.

“Be careful, Garrett,” I say, an edge creeping into my voice. “This is a really sharp drop.”