Vanessa. Something stirred at the back of my mind. As usual, it was almost impossible to nail down a specific memory, but I could grasp at fragments. I remembered having dinner with Garrett’s family, picnic-style on the floor of their living room. I remembered the impression that there was a lingering sadness around her, though I wasn’t sure why. Was it a remnant of a bitter divorce, or something darker? I struggled again to conjure up a memory of Garrett’s sister—what had happened to her?—but nothing came to me.

Emma took a deep breath. “Sorry, Vanessa. It’s been a long time.”

The woman patted Emma’s shoulder, smiling wistfully. “It has, hasn’t it? But I’m so glad to see you now. Does this mean you and Garrett are friends again?”

Emma hesitated. Garrett’s mom was nothing like she’d expected. She seemed so sweet; the idea of lying to her made Emma a little nauseated. But she had to get into Garrett’s room somehow.

“We’re trying,” she said evasively. Vanessa nodded, and for a moment, she looked tired.

“I know how difficult he can be sometimes,” she said, her voice low. “But you meant so much to him. I’m glad you’re trying to stay in each other’s lives. I always thought you were good for him, Sutton.”

Emma bit her lip. “You did?”

“Of course.” Vanessa had a dimple in her left cheek, the same as Garrett’s. When she smiled, the years peeled off her. “You were the only girlfriend he ever had who didn’t let him get away with murder.”

Emma forced a hollow laugh at Vanessa’s choice of words. “Oh, I don’t know about that.” She cleared her throat. “I stopped by because I think Garrett has my Wildcats sweatshirt. Is he here?”

Vanessa shook her head, her amber earrings swaying with the movement. “No, I’m afraid he’s still at school. Pumping iron, I think he calls it?” She had a gasping, breathless laugh. “He won’t be home for a few hours.”

Emma pretended to be disappointed, pursing her lips in a pout. “Oh, man. I was really hoping to wear it this weekend. They’re playing New Mexico, and I always wear that shirt when I watch the game with my dad.”

“Why don’t you run up to his room and see if you can find it?”

Emma felt a pang of guilt at how easily the woman suggested it. “You don’t mind?”