“Cassie, stop. I’m not giving up or interrogating you. Eleanor hasn’t spent as much time with Peter as I have. She doesn’t understand the intricacies of the law. Billy will have to register as a sex offender, whether he takes a plea or loses at trial. But the plea guarantees him a much shorter sentence. With a guilty verdict, he could get twenty years. Do you want Billy rotting in prison until he’s forty-two? I certainly don’t. Peter is talking to the DA tomorrow. After that, I want all of us to meet with him, including you. I need your support, Cassie. We can’t go to trial.”

Immediately, I feel trapped between my parents. Nate is on Eleanor’s side, but who knows for how long. “My life is here, Lawrence.”

“It’s a life, sure, but not your real life. Your real life is in New York, with us.” He lowers his voice. “We miss you, Cassie. Billy needs you. I need you—not just to fight this case, but to fight Eleanor. Cassie, please. Come home. Don’t make me beg.”

* * *

I don’t know what to do. Lying in bed that night, I’m restless. I want to sleep but can’t. I want to call Marcus but shouldn’t. We haven’t spoken in nine months. I’ve refused his calls. Deleted his texts. Maintained my silence. But I need someone to talk to, a distraction so I don’t lose my mind. The more I consider calling, the smarter it sounds. Is it, though? Or am I trying to justify a short-sighted decision? How much will I hate myself in the end?

Fuck it.

I text, my heart thumps: Call me. Important.

His reply is immediate: Two minutes.

For Marcus, two minutes means anywhere from ten minutes to three days. While I wait, my hand trails down my stomach, my fingers slip between my legs. I check my phone, willing it to ring. It’s an old habit, one I thought I outgrew. If I check in five minutes, he’ll call. Ten minutes, he’ll call. Fifteen minutes, he’ll call. An hour later, when Marcus still hasn’t called, I feel my skin start to twitch. My eyes fill with tears. Not again. For years I’ve been on hold for Marcus, waiting for him to finish his call, get out of work, read the last page. He says I’m the center of his world, but his sole focus is himself, his wants, his needs. I left New York because I couldn’t let Marcus Silver be my sole focus too. And now, look. Months and months of restraint blown with one text. You’re so stupid, I chastise myself. So goddamn stupid.

The phone rings. “Hey you.”

My relief is instantaneous. Once again, I can breathe. “Hey back.”