Leaning her head back against the cushions, she stared up at the ceiling, at the crack that ran along the edge of it. The one the apartment manager had said would be fixed months ago. And this was actually the nicest apartment she and Amelia had lived in together.

When she and Dan were married, they had a nice home. Spacious. Clean. Great neighborhood. No cracks in the ceiling. After they’d split up, Whitney’s biggest fear had been that she wouldn’t be able to care for Amelia as a single mom. That she wouldn’t be able to juggle everything on her own. But, surprisingly, she had been able to.

At least, she thought she had.

Now she was realizing that even with how strict she was, how overbearing, there was still so much she didn’t know. So much Amelia had been able to get away with. Whitney couldn’t be home with her every second. She had a demanding job. A social life.

She thought of a crime drama she’d watched a few months back where a girl had been sold into sex trafficking by some guy she’d been talking to. Not even a creepy older guy online. But a guy she thought was her age whom she’d met through a friend. Apparently, he was a decoy.

As she watched the show, Whitney had thought about how lucky she was to have a daughter who was smart enough not to get involved in something like that. But was she? According to Becca, she’d been talking to two guys behind Whitney’s back—one of them an older man she’d met online. Not to mention the Snapchat Whitney had seen from Phil Lopez. That would make it three guys. Unless he was the older one?

Sitting up straight, Whitney reached for her phone. Behind her she heard Natalie shuffle down the hallway, close the bathroom door.

Thinking about Becca’s response to who Phil Lopez was, she googled the name. Yep. Becca was right. Phil Lopez was the name of the lead singer of the Hard Knocks. Whitney clicked on their website and then wrinkled her nose. Amelia had never been a fan of rock bands, so Whitney doubted that she listened to them.

And Phil Lopez was probably a common name.

Natalie came back into the room, stood behind the couch, peering over Whitney’s shoulder. “Whatcha looking at?”

“About a month ago, Amelia got a Snapchat from a boy named Phil Lopez.” Whitney pointed at the screen. “This guy is also Phil Lopez, but clearly, not the same guy that was messaging my daughter.”

Natalie leaned over the couch. “You know that Snapchat handles aren’t usually a kid’s real name. Maybe it’s just the person’s favorite band or something.”