She looks over, proving she can, then faces forward, saying, “I wouldn’t,” half under her breath, clinging to the last of her stubbornness.

“Wouldn’t what?”

“Need friends. I wouldn’t need anything.”

If she had him. I’m quiet a second, slightly stunned. Wondering what that means, that she’d give everything, but I wouldn’t.

She walks ahead of me the rest of the way to the park.

“Did the cop ask you about Gavin?”

We’re comparing stories, Trace holding a massive carryout coffee, warming his hands. I hardly noticed how cold it is today during my walk down the trails. Too busy trying to find a path to healing things with Bree. Won’t be overnight. Might not be in this lifetime. Kincaid isn’t here yet, and even though most of me is dying to see him, it’s also a relief. No six-foot-two reminder with a do-what-you-want philosophy of life breezing back and forth between us. Wish he had a phone, though, so I could at least text, see if the cops tracked him down with their questions yet. Make sure he spent last night somewhere safe.

Trace nods at Sage’s question. “Yeah, asking if Ivy was friends with him or whatever? I was like, no, he was a sophomore. Just because Cotswold hung out at the park sometimes doesn’t mean we were all BFFs. Little ankle biter was annoying as hell.” Takes a sip, chokes, swears.

Sage grabs the Styrofoam cup from his hand, holding it out of reach. “Just let it cool down! God.”

“Ow-ow-ow-ow.” Fans his mouth. “Tongue grafts, stat. I’m suing Dunkin’.”

Moon pries an earbud loose. “Hey, puppet master. Is the prank war still on, or nah?”

Trace thinks. “Guess not. With Ivy and everything.”

“Yeah. Plus, getting expelled senior year would kind of suck.”

“Little bit.”

They grab their boards and head for the ramps, Trace pausing to trash his coffee. I stop him there, keeping my voice low as I come out with the question that’s been eating at me since yesterday. “Did you know that Kincaid is homeless?” Trace looks down at me, then up at the sky. “How could you not say anything?”

“Doing the couch tour of your buddies’ houses isn’t the same as homeless.”

“But his mom kicked him out.”

“Yup. A while ago. Like back in June?” Trace rubs his neck. “I dunno. Stuff was said. ‘If you walk out that door,’ whatever. It’s not like he and his mom have anything in common. She’s strict as hell. Maybe she thinks if she doesn’t back down now, she’ll squish him into that straight-As overachiever mold after all. Who knows.”

“Where’s his dad?”