The thought of it squeezes my heart a little—I always loved Fourth of July with Zander and his family. Watching the fireworks at this little beach in town with an old lighthouse, and setting off sparklers on his parents’ beach blanket. When we were finally together, kissing through the finale. This will be my first Fourth of July without him. The first one I can remember, at least. I’m not sure how I’m going to handle it—I have a feeling that when the fireworks explode, my heart will too.

Aiden’s voice brings me out of my demented daydream of rabbit-filled vortices and ex-boyfriends. “Do you always ride your bike? You don’t have a car?”

“I don’t,” I say.

“You live nearby, then?”

“Not too far, I’m downtown. It’s doable.” It’s going to be much worse when July and August hit and the humidity makes the ride feel twice as long.

“Maybe your mom will buy you one.”

“I hope not.” There’s a long silence and I’m surprised Aiden isn’t grilling me, trying to pry apart my relationship with my mother, see how it all fits together. People are fascinated by dysfunctional families. It’s like everyone wants to dissect you and see what screwed you up so bad. Not so they can fix it, just so they don’t do the same. They want to look at you in all of your screwed-up glory and be glad they aren’t you. “I don’t want anything from her. She’s never given me anything, and now I don’t want anything.”

I probably wouldn’t have said it if I had been looking at him. But I said it to the river. To the tall grasses growing alongside the water, creeping into the shallow water. To the dunes that are starting to jut up behind them, growing up up up, taller and taller with each stroke of the paddle.

“Badass,” Aiden mutters, and I’m not sure if he’s talking about me, or the fact that it feels as if we’ve been transported to some other place. We’re farther down the river than this afternoon—we forked left instead of right this time. The dunes are looming over us on either side now, and it’s like we’re in another country, another time, another reality.