I almost threw them out. But then I decided what the heck. I taped them onto the back of the packet of tissues—they fit perfectly—and tucked the whole thing into my skirt pocket, being careful not to crush it.

“Evie, please,” Mom scolded. Again.

“Sorry!” I curled my foot around the leg of the squeaky chair to keep my leg from bouncing. But it was either that or start rambling again.

I’d been to lots of funerals and I’d never been very nervous. But today I wasn’t just nervous—I was really nervous. My heart raced, my stomach was filled with butterflies, and my hands were sweaty.

Mom, Dad and I were in the office, waiting for the family to arrive. A limousine was bringing them here early so they could be settled into the quiet room before the other people arrived.

At the sound of a car approaching, I followed Dad’s gaze out the window. Nate was directing the limousine into the family spot by the big back doors, beside the two hearses.

“They’re here,” Dad announced unnecessarily.

We all stood. I was about to go out into the lobby when Dad said, “Evie…”

I knew exactly what he was going to say. I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t talk his ear off. I learned my lesson.”

The three of us headed for the lobby. I ran the tips of my fingers over the paper flowers in my pocket, still not 100 percent sure I should give it to Oren. I mean, I wanted to. Sort of. But not if he’d think it was weird.

Oren and his uncle came through the door. They were both wearing black suits and ties and shiny black shoes. Oren’s suit jacket was only draped over his right shoulder because his arm was in the sling. His face still looked awful—less puffy, but the colors of the bruises were brighter somehow. It had only been a day since I’d seen him. Barely any time to heal his body. Definitely not his heart.

Dad stepped forward and greeted Mr. Silver solemnly, then briefly placed a hand on Oren’s left shoulder.

Behind them was an older couple, hunched over and holding each other up. Their faces were damp, and they looked overwhelmed with grief. Oren’s grandparents, I guessed. I wondered briefly if they were his mom’s parents or his dad’s.

I took a breath to steady myself. I was determined not to cry. When I looked at my mom, I could see that her eyes were a bit glassy. But her emotions didn’t stop her from doing her job, and I thought that was pretty amazing. She reached out to the older couple and murmured some comforting words. I was pretty sure I was going to get a lot of hugs from her and Dad later.

Continuing to speak in hushed voices, my parents began to lead everyone to the quiet room.

It’s now or never, Evie. I decided on never. But just as I was about to turn away, Oren looked up. His hazel eyes looked right into mine.