“That’s my thing! That’s me. Anyone else, they like someone and then they have this stopper inside them. They think, oh, they love this person, they love them a lot, so they’ll do this thing and that thing and give them this gift and bam, that’s enough. Bam. But that’s not me. When I love people it overflows and it makes a heck of a mess. I don’t know where to stop things, and when things start slipping away, I reach out harder.”

She hit the button.

⊙

“Kenzie, there are ten, twelve reasons you shouldn’t be here right now. You can’t keep doing things like this.”

“I wanted to see you.”

“Kenzie,” he said. He knelt down in front of her. He put his hands on her shoulders like he was trying to minimize contact, only palms touching fingers and thumb splayed out. “I would love to see you. The best chance at getting back to normal is to take a break, stick to our routines, and avoid making waves.”

His coworkers were looking. She swallowed hard.

“You’re supposed to be in school.”

“There was an assembly.”

“And you’re not supposed to be here, and it just raises questions.”

She reached, grasping for some kind of answer or way to try to fix things.

“Kenzie,” he said. “At the bookstore two days ago. Was that you?”

Her mouth opened, then closed.

“No,” she lied, under her breath.

“How in the world did you know to find me there?”

“Luck,” she said, her mouth dry.

“How did you know I was here, and not working from home?”

She shook her head, mouthing a word that, if she’d been asked, she couldn’t have said what it was.

She saw the look in his eyes. Wariness. Fear.

It wasn’t a new look. It had been there from the time she’d entered his room, and it had gotten worse every time she’d opened a door, knowing he was there. The statements she’d tried, to make it sound like they were on the same wavelength. Over and over they’d had the opposite effect.

“Andrea,” Keith said. “What do you have on your plate?”

“Nothing big.”

Kenzie’s teeth chattered.

“Could I get you to do me a massive favor? I need Kenzie dropped off at school.”

“I think I can do that.”

“I’ll get you the address.”

She watched him leave the room, and she saw the look in his eyes. He was gone. She might see him again or talk to him again, she could get every detail, read every instant message, see every webpage he visited, but he would never be her dad again.

Every point of light in the room flared, a kaleidoscope, a lens flare across her field of vision. Even the edges of the desks where the sunlight drew highlights on glossy black finish became impossibly bright.