Lauren stared at Amelia’s profile, watching her hair lift slightly in the breeze, revealing the edge of her birthmark. If Whitney’s words were true, then her mom had chosen to save Amelia over her. She’d selflessly given one daughter a better life.

She envisioned Amelia’s cozy room, the walls displaying her favorite movies. After her mom died and her dad went to prison, Lauren hadn’t had her own room until she was an adult. Growing up, she shared with the other foster kids, or slept on the occasional couch. Every once in a while she got lucky and stayed at a house where she had a room all to herself, but it wasn’t really hers. She couldn’t decorate it, or make it her own. Beth and Henry’s house was like that. They’d been her favorite foster parents. The only ones she’d kept in contact with over the years.

That’s why she’d used their house as a decoy.

Both she and Amelia knew that Whitney would never be okay with dropping her daughter off at some sleazy motel. Plus, she thought that Lauren was only seventeen, not twenty-five. For years, Beth and Henry had cocktail hour out on their patio every single afternoon from four thirty to five thirty. Lauren had never known them to skip it. So, she figured that would be the perfect time for Whitney to drop Amelia off. Lauren had slipped in through her former bedroom window, like the old days sneaking home after a night out, and let Amelia in the front minutes later.

It all would’ve been easier if Whitney hadn’t been the type of mom who insisted on dropping her daughter off, a fact that pissed Amelia off to no end. It was puzzling to Lauren, who would have loved to have a parent care about her like that.

Her mind flew back to the first time she’d spent the night at Amelia’s. Whitney had peeked in on them, offering them snacks, but it was clear that the intention was mainly to be included. To know what was going on. Amelia had snapped at her, basically told her to leave.

Lauren had watched Whitney leave the room, the expression on her face betraying how hurt she was. Before closing the door, Whitney had eyed her daughter as if willing Amelia to beckon her back in. It reminded Lauren of a dog being left outside.