Carter had taken it exactly as we’d expected him to, which was why this unfortunate reality was so disappointing. Even though I hated putting this whole situation on Carter, it was his scene that he’d caused and his misery that we were now all living in.

But I was the one who’d pushed him there.

And I was the one who should’ve known better.

It felt worse than any breakup I’d had. This fight with Carter, it left my heart like a dark bubble camping in the middle of my chest. It hurt to move. It hurt to think. This was truly heartbreak.

Though it could have been the tequila.

“Hey.” My dad came into my room. “Let’s get up, kiddo.”

I put my pillow over my face. Protecting myself from the world with its plushy softness.

“Nick.” He fought me for it, trying to pry the pillow out of my cold, dead hands. “Get up.”

“No.”

“It’s three in the afternoon. If you don’t eat something soon, you can kiss those six-pack abs good-bye.”

I lifted up my cheek. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“But do you want to find out?”

He had me there.

I sat up and he tossed me a sweatshirt. He handed me my running shoes and a pair of socks. I groaned.

“Moving’s going to be good for you,” said my dad. “Endorphins and all that.”

I stared at the sneakers he put on my bed.

“Chop, chop. While it’s still light out, please.”

Fifteen minutes later, I ran next to my dad on one of our old routes, a stony path through the woods behind our house. The two of us hadn’t gone on a run together for a few years, since his knee had started acting up again. I had to wonder if he’d be able to do this with me, but as I panted like I was about to have a stroke, my dad hadn’t broken a sweat.

After Carter ditched us the night before, Austin and I coped by taking tequila shots and eating mini donuts. I didn’t even remember making it home, which meant there was a 100 percent chance my dad knew what I’d been up to. I’d never been good at going that hard and hiding it from my parents.

“I’m going to throw up,” I announced, after about three more minutes. My dad didn’t stop running. I trailed behind him for as long as I could, until I finally dropped to my knees and hurled my guts out.

“Feel better?” My dad jogged back to me.

“Nope.”

“Come here.” He extended his arm to pull me up.

“Thanks.” I wiped my mouth on my sleeve. “How much trouble am I in?

“Not sure yet,” said my dad. He stepped over a rock jutting out of the path and I plodded along beside him. “Your mom was going to ground you, if you were ever actually ungrounded. We’re not great at enforcing that, huh?”

Blurry pebbles scattered as we walked.