But maybe Jack was wrong, said a small voice in my mind. Elise said she wouldn’t have cared if the house caught on fire and burned down, not that she meant to light it on fire herself. Fireworks were tricky, and she was probably tired from the drive, or too keyed up. It was easy, then, to make a mistake. An accident was almost inevitable under those circumstances.

It’s amazing, what you can talk yourself out of.

Maybe I’d never really know what happened in Chattanooga. But maybe none of it mattered. Because even if Elise had done it on purpose, I could never just let her go to jail.

I glanced back toward the kitchen, the balcony doors. She was out there, expecting me to take some time and then come back to her. But I didn’t know if I could, or if I wanted to any longer. Elise wanted to be the Bride, Beatrix Kiddo. She wanted to play superhero, but none of it ever made her feel better. None of it ever helped her, and I was beginning to think that maybe nothing I did could help her either. Whether I said no or went along with her plans, it was never enough.

Dizzy with exhaustion and doubt, I pulled out my phone and texted Jack.

Me: I don’t know what to do

Jack: Leave

Me: I can’t do that

It felt like a betrayal, to leave her in that house.

Jack: Where are you guys?

Me: Pink Mansion, why?

Jack: I can be there in twenty

Me: No, you’ll just make it worse

Jack: At least let me take you home

Jack: You must be exhausted

Me: I guess

Then, fifteen minutes later, I got the text.

Jack: I’m here

Elise was still out on the balcony, so I opened the front door carefully. “Hey,” I whispered.

“Why are you whispering?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I answered. “I don’t know what to do.”

I hugged him tight, and in his arms, I felt safe. I pulled him impossibly closer, my hands in his hair. He smelled like peppermint soap and coffee, like the true home I’d been searching for, the life I wanted. And maybe together we could rebuild, and maybe with him I could be the version of myself I wanted to be, the Remy he saw in me, the Remy he loved.

“What’s going on?” he asked, gently pulling my arms off to look at me. We were still by the door, the rest of the house dark and too quiet. “What did Elise say?”

I ignored his question. “Please don’t go to the police,” I said instead. “Please. For me.”

He looked torn. Worse, he looked like he was disappointed in me.

“Don’t make this harder for me,” I begged. “I don’t even know how she and I will recover from this, if we’ll recover from it.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” I said, the words bursting out, surprising both of us. I glanced back at the balcony doors. “But I don’t want her arrested or anything. Maybe it really was an accident.”