Where should she begin? One of the reasons Kerrianne fell in love with Mason years ago was how well he listened. He’d surprise her months later with a playlist of various songs they’d talked about. He was patient and fair, and even though she knew he didn’t love her, she could count on his loyalty. Could she count on it now? She hoped so.

Two miles pass before Kerrianne finally speaks. “I gave the combinations to Reg freshman year when I was helping out during orientation.”

“When the two of you hooked up?”

“It was the worst three weeks of my life.” Kerrianne trembles, stares out the passenger window, the past haunting her again.

“I still don’t understand. Why would you give him the list?” When she doesn’t answer, his eyes flicker from the road to Kerrianne. She’s doing some serious landscape gazing. Mason knows Reg is clever, a manipulator, a gambler. He plays to win. He tests, pushes the limits, just like he did with that letter to the editor. Something clicks in Mason’s mind. “What does he have on you?”

Mason turns into the Riviere Marquee parking lot, chooses a semi-secluded spot next to a fir tree, and shifts into Park. He unzips his jacket, then faces her. She still won’t face him.

Impatient, Mason pushes Kerrianne over the edge. “Maybe we need to talk with Principal McNeil?”

The floodgates open. Sobbing, her words come out in fragments. In between, she gulps in air. “A few photos. Of me in my bra. And underwear. That I texted him.”

Mason reaches into his glove box and hands Kerrianne a stack of fast-food napkins.

He has never seen Kerrianne this vulnerable and filled with despair. For a half second, he wonders if it’s an act, but in the same half second he dismisses it. Kerrianne definitely knows how to pour on the drama, but this would be an Academy Award–winning performance and she’s not that good of an actress. She wipes her eyes, smearing her already drippy makeup.

Mason understands what it’s like to be powerless with his dad, the asshole of assholes, and he’s done tolerating it from anyone else.

He reaches over and gently sets his hand on Kerrianne’s shoulder. Through the thick layer of her coat, it’s barely a touch, but it’s enough. She unbuckles her seat belt and buries her head in his chest. Grasping the lapels of his letter jacket, she sobs as he holds her.

Now what? Mason wonders. There are other questions, but he’s not sure this is the time to ask. Their half hour is ticking away, and he has no doubt Miss Wather is also watching the clock. He loosens his grip and finally Kerrianne loosens hers.

Mason finds it hard to calibrate his mind to this Kerrianne. She must notice because she says, “You believe me, right?”

“Yeah, I believe you.”

“But?”