I said goodnight, too, and waited for him to leave. It was time, I thought, the night was almost over and I had something to say.

"You hungry?" she asked.

"Not really."

"I'm hungry." Then she marched up the stairs and I followed her to the kitchen. She opened the pantry and pulled out a bag of chips. She was upset. She snacked when she was upset, and we both knew the reason why, but she'd never say it out loud. I hadn't missed her checking her phone every few minutes while we were at dinner or earlier in the day at school or in the car. She was waiting for the phone call or even a simple text. She'd lied to her dad. She lied to herself.

Lane grabbed two sodas from the fridge and handed them to me, her way of asking me to stay a little while longer. Then she emptied the bag of chips into a bowl, held onto the bag as she walked to the trash, pressed her foot on the lever to lift the lid, and then froze in her spot.

"What is it?" I asked.

She didn't respond.

I walked over to her, watched her eyes quickly fill with tears. Then I looked in the trash, at the cause of the tears, at the discarded purple and gold wrapping paper.

"It's not a big deal," she whispered. It was.

She used my chest to m.u.f.fle her cries, not wanting her dad to hear her. And I stood there, holding her, knowing it wasn't the right time to tell her how I felt. But then she looked up at me, her eyes red and raw. "Thank you, Luke."

"For what?" I asked.

"For being here. For being my friend."

Her friend.

I didn't tell her I loved her that night.

I couldn't.

I was her friend. Nothing more. Nothing less. And at the time, I was okay with it because I had other, more important, things to worry about.

Dad was in his office when I got home, sitting at his desk where I needed to be. "I need the computer," I told him.

"Where's your laptop?"

"I need your computer," I reiterated. I moved behind the desk, stood and hovered next to him.

"What's the urgency?"

I bounced on my toes, rage washing through me. "You keep all the resumes of your employees, right?"

"Yes."

"So you'd have Lane's old address from when Brian sent you his?"

"Yes, but-"

"I need it," I cut in.

"Lucas," Dad said, standing up so I could take his seat. "What's happening?"

My fingers worked frantically, opening and closing files, trying to find the right one. "And I'm going to need your truck tomorrow."

"Luke!" He shook my shoulders and made me look at him. "What the h.e.l.l's going on?"

"I hate her," I bit out.

"Who? Lane?"

"No!" I shouted. "Her mother. I hate her stupid mother. She hasn't been around. She's never been around. And she forgot Laney's birthday. What kind of mother forgets their own daughter's sixteenth birthday?"

"Okay. Calm down," he said, taking his hands off of me. "What are you going to do, Luke? Drive there, knock on her door, and then what? What are you going to say?"

I find the file. Email it to myself. Map out the destination.

"Luke?"

"I don't know, okay? But she keeps hurting Lane, Dad. She keeps hurting her and making her sad and Lane just keeps taking hit after hit and she won't say or do anything about it. And I'm p.i.s.sed and I hate her and I want her to know that."

Dad nodded slowly, his eyes tired. "Okay," he said, then unlocked a drawer on his desk that housed all the important things: birth certificates, wills, Mom's engagement ring. He placed the family emergency credit card on the desk in front of me. "The truck needs gas."

I left early so I could be back early. I wouldn't be going to school and I wouldn't be telling Lane why, so I knew she'd be going to my house to check in on me. Her old house was four hours away, and it didn't give me much time to make any stops. I skipped my morning run, ate breakfast on the way.

Laney's old house was four times the size of the one she and Brian lived in now, and it just p.i.s.sed me off more. Her dad had given up everything, including the house, in the divorce, and now they were sc.r.a.ping for pennies and Laney had to work to save for college just so her stupid mom could live that life.

I didn't bother knocking on the door. I kicked it. Over and over. "What the h.e.l.l?" was her mom's response when she opened the door. The moment I saw her, I hated her more. She looked like Laney. Almost identical. Same dark hair. Same dark eyes. Same light skin. "Want to tell me why you're literally kicking down my door, kid?"

My heart pounded so fast I couldn't count the beats. With shaky hands, I reached into my pocket, pulled out my phone, and brought up the picture of Laney in the restaurant from the night before. I showed it to her. "I just thought you might want to see what your daughter looked like on her sixteenth birthday."

Her jaw dropped.

"It was yesterday, just in case you'd completely forgotten everything about her. She ordered lobster. She didn't like it. Then we went back to my house and my brothers gave her presents and we sang Happy Birthday and she had cake and danced with my dad to his wedding song with my mom. My mom's dead now, but she loved your daughter, more than you ever will, more than you ever have. And I'm kicking down your door because I'm imagining it's your face-" She gasped, but I kept going. "Quit making her cry. Quit hurting her. I hate seeing her sad and I hate you. It would be so easy for her to hate you, too, but she doesn't have it in her heart because her heart's beautiful. She's beautiful. And you're missing out on all that beauty because your heart's black and ugly and full of hate!"

I shoved the phone in my pocket and turned to leave. I was halfway to my car when she called out, "You her boyfriend or something?"

I froze, my feet glued to the ground. Then I shook my head, told her the truth. "I should be so lucky."

Chapter Eleven.

LUCAS.

I take Dad's advice, give Laney time, give her s.p.a.ce. I hate s.p.a.ce, but I need it, too, because everyone's noticed my deterioration. My brothers see it, but they don't ask. Garray asks, but I don't tell. The worst, though, is Cooper f.u.c.king Kennedy. He pushes me, on and on-physically, mentally.

Rumor says he was caught having s.e.x on campus with the daughter of a UNC member of faculty-the girl was underage. His parents threw their money around, managed to get the charges dropped, but the school needed to do something to save face. They handed the issue over to the athletic department, made them decide on Cooper's punishment. His penalty? A semester off the track team and going back to his old high school to help coach. Apparently, the UNC athletic department doesn't understand the meaning of irony. So now he's here, every Monday and Friday, and I'm his pet, his project, his punishment. Only he's the one doing the punishing.

Laney doesn't take my calls.

Doesn't respond to my texts.

Doesn't answer the door.

Doesn't even glance in my direction.

Not until September 25TH , the anniversary of my mom's death.

The kids don't go to school on September 25TH . We visit her grave. Lucy and Cameron drive down from campus and they join us, too. Cameron asks Lucy to marry him. I'm happy for them. Really, I am.

But not as happy as when I see the crocheted flower sitting on our doormat, a sign that Laney had been here, that she remembered. Of course, she remembered. She's not me.

The first year anniversary, the flower was yellow. The following year, it was orange. Every year since, it's been a different color. This year, it's green.

I pick up the flower and place it on the mantel, along with the others, right next to a framed picture of my mother. I congratulate Cam and Luce again, then go to my apartment, change from my suit and tie and into my running gear and I run. I run the same route twice before I find myself at the crossroads. I pause. Look left. Look right.

468 steps.

Knock knock.

I don't expect her to answer, but if she's in her room, I want her to hear the knock and I want her to know it's me. And I want her to know I appreciate her and that I'm sorry. For everything.

She does answer, her eyes red. She has the same look on her face that she did the last time I was here. Only I didn't cause these tears.

"Thank you," I tell her.

"You're welcome," she says.

Then she closes the door, dividing the s.p.a.ce between us.

I hate s.p.a.ce.

The days pa.s.s, turn to weeks, my mind a fog with zero clarity.

It's 11:49 pm. I know, because I've been clutching my phone, watching the minutes tick down. In eleven minutes, I'll be eighteen years old.

Every year since Laney and I have owned cell phones, she calls at midnight, on the dot, and over exaggerates the singing of Happy Birthday.

Every year.

Midnight.

11:59, and my thumb hovers over the screen, waiting, hoping, praying.

At 12:01, I die inside.

"And the school had such high hopes for you," Cooper says, sitting on the gra.s.s in front of me while he does his own set of cooldowns.

I take the bait. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean the fall season starts in a couple of weeks, and you're not even close to your PB."

"I'll be fine."

"But that's the thing," he says, switching positions. "You're not fine. Track is a lonely f.u.c.king sport, dude, and only you can control your performance. If your head's a mess, it shows in every stride, every millisecond you're out there."

"It's true," Garray agrees, running a hand through his shaved, blond hair. "And it's worse for cross-country runners like me."

Cooper nods. "You want my advice, Preston?"

"Not even a little bit."

"You're wound up. Something's messing with your head and you need to get rid of it." He points to his left, toward the girls' track team. "Go f.u.c.k the brains out of your hot girlfriend. Grace, right?"

I shake my head, eyes narrowed at him. He knows I broke up with Grace the day after I tried to explain it all to Laney. The entire school knows.

He smirks. "Oh wait, you're not with her anymore, right? Maybe it's that chick from my college?" f.u.c.k him. I'd made out with a girl when I visited Cam and Luce on campus to get away from this bulls.h.i.t, and when she got me in her car, I couldn't f.u.c.king go through with it. I lied, told Lucy's friends that we'd screwed. What was I going to say? That I almost puked at the idea of being with anyone other than Lane?

"Roxy, right?" f.u.c.k Cooper Kennedy and f.u.c.k him for knowing so much.

"f.u.c.k off."

He laughs, motions toward the locker rooms. "Or does your problem have to do with her?"

I follow his gaze to Laney standing just outside the tunnel leading to the locker rooms, adjusting the straps of her backpack. She glances up, then down again. I'm on my feet before I have time to register why she's here, just glad she is. My heart pounds, thuds hard against my chest, and I quicken my steps, widen my strides until I'm standing in front of her.

"Hey," I say.

"Hey," she says back.

"You, um..." Breathe, Luke. "You waiting on me?"

"Actually..." She looks over my shoulder.

"Hey, Lois," Cooper shouts. He waits until he's standing next to me before saying, "I need to hit the showers so I'll be a few minutes."

"No problem," Laney says, and my insides turn to stone.

Cooper pats me on the shoulder before strutting down the tunnel because he's a d.i.c.k, and she's moved on and it's only been a few weeks, Laney. I stare at her, my chest aching, while she stares down at the ground like her shoes are fascinating. "So you and Coop?" I choke on his name, poison on my tongue.