It had been easier dismissing Mike’s words in June than it was now, with fall creeping closer each day. If the worst happened, she had nowhere to turn. She needed Mike.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that ignoring him was a luxury she could no longer afford. She had to change direction. She had to convince him that she no longer hated his guts. Even if it killed her.

Toby’s sleepy voice drifted through the screen door. “What’re you doing out here?”

“I—couldn’t sleep.”

“Did you have a bad dream?”

“No. What about you? Why are you up?”

“I don’t know. Just woke up.” He yawned and came out to sit next to her. His shoulder brushed her arm. The sleepy, sweaty boy smell of him reminded her of summer nights with her brothers when they’d sneak into one another’s rooms and tell ghost stories.

He spoke through another yawn. “Thanks for the ice cream tonight.”

She cleared the lump in her throat. “You’re welcome.”

“A lot of kids are scared of the dark, but not me,” he announced.

She wasn’t either. She had too many real things to be afraid of.

He leaned over to examine a scab on his ankle. “Could we maybe invite Mike over for dinner soon?”

She began to bristle, then realized he’d handed her the perfect method to begin mending her relationship with Mike. One way or the other, she had to make him believe she’d put the past behind her.

“Sure we can.” She briefly wondered when she’d become so cold-blooded, but standing on principle now seemed to be a luxury only the wealthy could afford. “I think it’s time we both got some sleep.” She rose from the step.

“I guess.” He got up. “Do you think he’d like cowboy casserole?”

“Definitely.”

They went inside, and as Toby headed for his bedroom, she called out to him the same way she did every night, “Good night, Toby.”

This time he answered her back. “G’night, Bree.”

AUGUST SETTLED IN FOR GOOD, bringing more sunny, humid days along with the occasional fierce thunderstorm. Most nights, Lucy and Panda met on the boat or in her room, but an unsettling intensity had replaced their playful kinkiness. There were no more strip searches, no more licorice whips. And during the day they bickered.

“Did you use yesterday’s grounds to make this coffee?” Panda said as he splashed the contents of his newly poured cup down the sink.

“You bitch if I make the coffee. You bitch if I don’t,” Lucy retorted.

“Because you refuse to follow directions.”