Mom kept it the way it was when I lived here, except neater. The same bed was butted up against the wall, in the middle of the room. Trophies lined the wall shelving that Dad had built. The TV on the dresser and the desk I rarely used hadn’t collected even a speck of dust.

I smiled as I shuffled toward the bed, kicking off my sneakers. There was a time, after the incident with Teresa’s ex-boyfriend, when I had hated these four walls. I’d loathed this house and this town and this state and myself.

Crashing on the bed, I stretched out and closed my eyes. Things were . . . different now, better. The only problem with coming home, it was impossible to not think about what happened in the house almost three years ago or Thanksgiving morning when Teresa finally told us the truth. The kind of rage that had slipped over me was something I’d never experienced before, but had only read about.

Murderous rage. It really did exist and it really was like tasting blood in your mouth. And that anger hadn’t faded in the hours after learning the truth nor had it really dissipated when I found that living punk ass and returned the favor with my fists. Afterward, that anger had warped into something unmanageable and it had eaten away at me like a cancer.

To this day I wished I had done something different that night, but there still wasn’t an ounce of regret in my veins. The judge, the lawyers, the community service and the weekly meetings had done nothing to change that, but when I thought about Avery, I wished I did feel that way. I doubted that she would want to be around me if she knew the truth.

Mom gave the best hugs.

There was a sheen to her eyes and she stepped back, clasping my shoulders. Still dressed in her white lab coat, she had come straight home after surgery. “I see you found the pie I left you.”

“I had help.”

Her smile spread. “Jase is here?”

I nodded as I leaned against the counter. “He’s upstairs sleeping.”

She smoothed back a few strands of hair that had escaped her twist. “Well, I’m sure a certain someone will be thrilled to see that you’ve brought him along with you.”

My brows lifted and then I groaned. “Please tell me she is not still infatuated with Jase.”

Mom laughed softly as she shrugged off her oversized sweater, draping it along the back of her chair. “I think ‘infatuated’ would be the wrong word to use.”

Rolling my eyes, I groaned. When I’d been on home confinement, Jase had spent almost every free moment up here, pulling my head out of my ass. And Teresa had spent every spare second spying on us and stalking Jase.