Which part was difficult? I wanted to ask. Giving me up to your psycho leader? Was that hard? Or had that been easy? Was she talking about how hard it had been for her to be away from them all this time?

“I thought about backing out, Abbi. I did.”

Except she didn’t. As if thinking about it meant anything. It wasn’t even a cheap consolation prize. “Please, Mom, just tell me where we were going?”

“It doesn’t matter.” She straightened in her seat, twisting her hands in her lap.

She had no grasp on reality if she thought it didn’t matter. It meant everything. “Why were you going back to them?” I asked, trying not to cry.

She stood, then quickly sat again. “None of this is important. Where’s Abner?”

And then it hit me—she wasn’t going back to them; she was going back to him. Had it always been about him? Was Love International just the excuse to make it okay to leave us? I leaned into Dad. He put a supportive arm around me. Maybe he was right. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“Have you seen him?” she asked.

I saw his beady eyes every time I closed my eyes to sleep. I hadn’t slept since the attack. Dean told me it was normal and would pass over time. He said he’d get me help if it didn’t.

I shook my head.

Mom laid her hands on her chest and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, followed by another. Some of the tension left her face. “Oh thank God, he’s here. I can feel him. As long as we’re still together, we can get through anything.” She took another deep breath, as if she tasted him in the air. She let him fill her before blowing him back out.

“Actually, you’re wrong,” I blurted out. “He’s not here.”

Her eyes snapped open. “Where is he?” She leaned across the table. “I thought you didn’t know where he was.”

“I don’t know where he is, but I do know who he’s with,” I said. I hadn’t planned on saying anything about Ray—or whatever his name was—but it hurt that all she cared about was him.

She practically leaped across the table, every muscle in her neck strained forward. “Where is he?” she asked again, scanning the room like I might be hiding him.

“His mom bailed him out last night,” I said.

Mom’s face contorted into the same shocked expression as Dad’s face had last night when they’d told him the news. She jerked her head back and forth. “What? No. That’s not possible. His mom died when he was sixteen.”