I have less than twelve weeks to figure out how I’m staying in Riverton. Zander’s house is obviously off the table, and Emma is lobbying her parents, but the Langes have four kids of their own to worry about, and Emma already shares a room with her younger sister Cordelia. I don’t know where I would even fit in their house. Maybe on a couch or in the basement? I’d be open to either at this point.

“Are you excited to go up next month?” Aunt Sarah asks.

It takes me a minute to remember we were talking about Zander and his summer plans. I nod. I haven’t told Aunt Sarah about Zander. About the breakup. I haven’t told anyone but Emma yet. Has he? I don’t want to have to say it out loud, but also I don’t want her to start telling me all of the reasons I’m better off. What if, just like Emma, she isn’t as Team Zander as I thought she was? Better to just wait and see how the summer pans out.

“She called again.”

“And how is her latest boyfriend?”

“Olivia,” Aunt Sarah scolds.

“What is she this month, a barista? A dog-walker?” I scoop popcorn into my mouth and chew. “Has she resurrected her short-lived private investigation career?”

“Olivia.” For all of my mother’s horribleness, at some point my aunt’s sisterly allegiance always kicks in. Especially the last year or two. I don’t get nearly as much mom-hating time as I used to with Aunt Sarah. “You’re being a brat.”

“I was raised in a barn…” I can’t help myself. Truly. Any other time, Aunt Sarah says I’m an old lady in a teenage body. But talking about my mother brings out my inner brat. “… By my mother.”

Aunt Sarah doesn’t have to say another word, because she’s glaring at me like she’s thinking of grabbing the chair I’m sitting in and tossing me into the driveway. Though I’m already getting booted out of this house, so it’s not even much of a threat anymore, is it?

“Fine.” I jab the remote at the TV and pause it. “What does She Who Shall Not Be Named want?”

“For you to call her.”

“Fine,” I say. “I’ll call her tomorrow, after work.”

Aunt Sarah tips her head my way and levels me with a stare. “Call her tonight.”

I groan. “I’m not in the mood tonight. Tomorrow I’ll already be tired and sore, and probably cranky, from my first day doing god-knows-what down by the river.” I stretch my head back and let it rest against the top of the cushion. “Perfect timing to call my mother.”

“She said today, Liv. It sounded important.”