But then she remembered the rest of that Labor Day. It was after he’d lost his real estate job. Mom had gone in to work—she had to work even more once Dad didn’t anymore—but Dad was supposed to take Annabelle to the parade and the carnival.

Annabelle had gotten dressed in the pink polka-dotted tank top and blue shorts Mom had laid out for her, and she’d waited outside Dad’s room, softly knocking every so often, until he finally got out of bed.

He had to carry her on his shoulders because they were so late that they were stuck at the back of the crowd, and they only saw the last few floats. They missed the high school soccer team’s float, and that was the part she’d been most excited about. Her favorite babysitter was the goalie, and she’d promised to save watermelon Jolly Ranchers to throw to Annabelle as she passed by.

Dad let Annabelle ride the teacups for ages to make up for missing so much of the parade, and then he bought her so much funnel cake and cotton candy that she threw up on the way back to the car.

She grasped for more good memories, but the good ones were like fine grains of sand, sliding right through her fingers even when she closed her hand. And now the worst one came back, from that swim team practice in fourth grade, and she couldn’t fight off the thought she usually managed to block out.

That her dad was supposed to protect her—that’s what dads did—but he’d been about to put her in danger that day. It was her coach who had protected her, and then Mom and Mitch. Not Dad.

But that was a long time ago. Things were different now.

The bus wound through neighborhoods and then past gas stations and strip malls, and she thought of Jeremy taking this same drive to Boston a few days before, watching this same scenery pass by and still being mad at her. It was silly to think she could make anything better just by sending him a video to make him laugh.

But then she remembered: Connor was going to make the trip, too. Today.

That’s what Jordan had said at the party, before . . . everything with Caroline. Probably not this early, since they were going to a concert at night. But maybe Annabelle would take the T back to the bus station in Boston right when Connor and Jordan’s bus was getting in. She imagined Connor’s grin widening as he saw her.

“Hummingbird!” he would call.

And she’d be hesitant at first, after Saturday night. But Connor would leave the others and walk over to her. He’d put his hands on her arms like he had when she’d stumbled into him at the pool the day Colette had asked her to swim up with the high school team. And he’d tell her how sorry he was that he hadn’t told her about Caroline. How he and Caroline had been together for a long time, and he didn’t want to hurt her, but he couldn’t help the way he felt about Annabelle.