"We need to talk."

"I have to pick Laney up from work."

"It's quick," he says. "You know that check you sent us to give Cooper?"

"Yeah?"

"I can't find him on campus."

"What do you mean you can't find him?"

He shrugs. "He hasn't been in his dorm for days, and I asked Jake to ask around... jocks, you know, they stick together."

"And?"

"And Jake says no one on the track team's seen him for a while. He's missed training the last couple days. That jerk's AWOL."

I keep this information from Lane when I pick her up from work which I don't feel too bad about. It's not like she's asked, and come to think of it, her phone hasn't been blowing up the way it used to. At least not when I'm around.

I tell her about what happened today, the s.h.i.t sandwich and p.i.s.s bottle, and she's sad she missed out on it. I thought she'd be disappointed in the way we chose to retaliate, and I tell her that. She shakes her head, says, "You know, I followed that little punk home from school one day so I could see where he lives and speak to his parents. His dad's just as vile and pathetic as he is."

We go to her house to pick up her sewing machine to go with all the other crafting supplies she keeps in our little apartment where we still haven't had s.e.x because we're taking it slow, doing it right. And then we go back home where we save dinner by "helping" Lucy in the kitchen, which means taking over without Lucy realizing it. After we eat, I help Lachlan with his bath and his bedtime and his one minute, and Lucy invites us to hang out at the cabin. Lane says she wants to shower, so she does that while I wait in the living room. Then her phone rings, and I know I shouldn't look, shouldn't answer. But I do look, and I see Cooper's name flash on the screen, and I do answer because I want to know what the h.e.l.l he still wants and where the h.e.l.l he is.

I don't speak when the call connects, just listen to him breathe. "Lois?" he says, and I keep quiet. "Why haven't you answered any of my calls, baby?" Baby? Seriously? At least I know she's not talking to him, listening to his blended, spoon-fed bulls.h.i.t. "I need to see you. Just once. Please, Lo." He exhales into the phone while I hold my breath, waiting for more. "Please, baby." And I've had enough and I hang up because he's nothing but poison in her veins, and the sooner he's out of her system, the better off she'll be. I go through her phone, through the missed calls and messages. If he's been messaging her, she's been deleting them because there isn't a single one there. But there are a lot of missed calls from him. Too many to count. She's probably tried to delete that evidence, too, but she doesn't know how to because she's one of the few in our generation who can survive without an iPhone glued to her hand. I delete the call just made, the one that shows I picked up, and when she gets out of the bathroom, her hair still wet, I pretend like nothing happened. Because really, nothing did happen.

At the cabin, I tell Cameron about the interview with Lachlan's teacher and how she recommended Lachlan get into some form of organized sport. "I was looking into getting him on a baseball team during the summer league, but they're all full. But, the league's still accepting new teams..."

He eyes me sideways. "So what? You want to start a whole new team?"

"Not just me. You and me, and I thought the twins could help a.s.sist, you know, give them something to do during the break? We can throw in a few bucks, get the company to sponsor them, get some uniforms. It's not too late."

He thinks about this a moment. "You know, if we do that it'll be a bunch of Lachlan's friends, and you've met Lachlan's friends, right?"

I chuckle. "We could name the team The Misfits."

Cameron says he's in and that it'll be good times. Then somehow, the conversation switches to the senior prom. Lane smiles at me from across the room, and I wonder if she remembers the pact we made on her sixteenth birthday; that regardless of who we were to each other, we'd go together. I don't think either of us would've imagined that we'd be where we are, her practically living in my apartment and making plans for our future while subconsciously dodging the fact that come August, I'll be two and a half hours away and she has no real idea what she'll be doing. "Tickets go on sale next Monday," Lucy says, and how she knows this stuff about a school she left three years ago, I have no idea. She must see the question in my eyes, because she laughs. "I still get the high school newsletter emailed to me." She looks at Laney. "Are you excited about it?"

Laney nods once, her gaze distant, and I know she, too, is lost in the memory of fancy restaurants and lobster and bracelets and Wonderwalls.

Chapter Thirty-Two.

LOIS.

I sit in my car on the Prestons' driveway looking between the main house and Lucas's apartment, and I have no idea how I got here. The sky is dark, the stars bright, and I've never felt so much silence. I wipe at my eyes when the porch light comes on, look at the clock. It's 4:30 am. Tom's leaving for work. s.h.i.t. I had no concept of time, no idea how long I've been sitting here. I try to scoot down in my seat, hoping he'll a.s.sume I'm just spending the night with Luke. My heart pounds, the tears come again. Knock knock on my window. "Lane?"

I wind down the window, do my best to smile.

"Why are you sitting in your car?" he asks, concern dripping in his words. He looks at the apartment. "Does Luke know you're here?"

"No, sir." I shake my head. "I finished work late last night and I didn't want to go home and I just started driving, ended up here, and I know Luke's got so much going on with his meet this weekend and I didn't want to wake him, so I've just been here..." A sob creeps up my throat, forces its way out of me. "I'm sorry. I'm just going to go."

"No, sweetheart. Come inside. You shouldn't be driving right now."

I nod, gather my stuff, gather myself.

The house is eerily silent, and I tell Tom that as I follow him to the kitchen. He switches on the coffee pot, turns to me. "It's peaceful, huh? But it's also kind of lonely when you're used to the general mayhem." He points to a chair at the kitchen table, and I take a seat, listen to the clock ticking, the tap leaking, the coffee pouring.

"I'm sorry. You were on your way to work and I..."

He sets a cup of coffee in front of me, sips on his as he sits in his usual chair at the head of the table. He covers my hand with his, says, "I don't live to work, Lane. I work to live, and my life is my family. That includes you, so talk to me."

There's so much I want to say. So much I wish I could tell him. I almost do. Almost. But then he squeezes my hand, looks at me the way Kathy did when I told her about my mom, and I can't do that to him. The truth would destroy him.

I wipe my eyes, try to settle my emotions, give him a small part of the reason why I've been sitting in his driveway the entire night. "When Luke goes to UNC in August, will you need help with the boys? Maybe I could move into the apartment and-"

"Are you asking for a job?"

"I don't have any plans after graduation. I just thought, if you need it..."

He leans back in his chair, rubs his beard. "Luke mentioned something about you getting scholarships."

"Cooper was my link to all that so..." I trail off, shrug.

"Have you and Lucas spoken about what you both want to happen when he goes to college?"

I drop my gaze, feel the warmth of the mug seep through my palms, my fingertips. "I don't expect Luke to-" The front door opens, cutting me off.

Luke rushes into the kitchen, his eyes wide when he sees me. "I saw your car in the driveway," he says. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"Yeah." I nod. "I'm fine."

Tom stands, kisses the top of my head. "Talk to him, sweetheart."

"Talk to me about what?"

Luke leans on the kitchen counter in his apartment while I sit on the stool on the other side. For the past ten minutes, he's been patiently watching me stare at my coffee, waiting for me to form my thoughts into words, but nothing's coming and I need time, Lucas. "You should go for your run."

"No."

"Why?"

"Why? Because my girlfriend's at my house and she didn't even tell me she was here. Instead, she's talking to my dad and telling him things she should be telling me, and it's clear she's been crying. So no, babe, I'm not going for a run. I'm not leaving your side."

The truth forms on the tip of my tongue, but my fear pushes it away. "I was just asking him about a job."

"A job?"

I nod.

"Lane, I don't need that money. My mom left me some for when I turned eighteen and-"

"It's not about the money."

He's silent a moment. Then: "Have you even slept?"

"No."

He sighs. "Can you please look at me?"

I swallow, thick, and work up the courage to face him.

"Is it about us? Are you not happy with us?"

The desperation in his voice shatters me. "No. I'm happy." I hate this. "So happy. But I think that's part of the problem. That happiness can't last forever."

"You're not even letting it begin."

"In a couple months, you'll be gone. And I don't expect you to stay with me when you leave."

His hand slams on the counter. "What the f.u.c.k, Lane!" he shouts, his voice echoing off the walls. "It's like you're trying to find reasons to end this! If you don't want me, just say that!"

I jump in my seat, cover my ears. "Don't yell at me!"

He's quick to get to me, his arms around my head. "I'm sorry," he says, stroking my hair. "I didn't mean to lose it like that."

I grasp onto his shirt, sob into his chest. "I don't know what I'm doing, Luke," I cry, looking up at him. "You have so much going for you and you're so determined, and your goals and dreams are this close to becoming real, and I'm so lost."

"Laney..." he whispers.

I push him away. "And you're going to college and going to live this amazing life and I'll be here, doing nothing."

LUCAS.

Those eyes give me everything. You could line up a thousand pairs of eyes, and I'd be able to tell you which were Laney's. I could even tell you exactly what she's feeling when I'm looking into them. If she's turned on, angry, confused, elated, lying.

There's more to what she's telling me, I know that much. But after seeing her reaction when I yelled, I don't want to push her. I want to heal her. And so I take her hand, lead her to the couch. "What did Dad tell you when you told him all this?"

She wipes her cheeks, looks down at her lap. "He told me to speak to you."

"He's a smart man," I say.

She sniffs once.

"When my parents graduated from UNC, Dad didn't know what he wanted to do. He just knew he wanted to marry my mom. So they got married, and he got a job working construction and for the first couple years, they saved every penny they could. They bought their first property when they were twenty-four. It was this s.h.i.tty, tiny apartment just outside Raleigh. But they took the knowledge he'd learned through work, fixed it up, and by the time they were twenty-five, they'd flipped their first property, turned a profit. My parents took that profit, did it again and again. Then mom got pregnant with Luce."

Her smile is a slow build, a beautiful image.

"Eventually, they settled into a house-not this one, but it was bigger than the apartments they were flipping. My mom came from money, and my grandfather was the one who invested in Preston Construction after I was born. They moved here, got a fresh start."

She nods, those eyes confused. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because for years, it's been something I've wanted to do."

"Okay?"

I shift her until she's sitting sideways on my lap, and I keep her close, stroke her leg. "Lane, Dad and I found this well-priced, two-bedroom apartment that's falling apart. It's in Chapel Hill, just outside UNC. My dad's in negotiations with the sellers, and if we get it, I want to spend the summer fixing it up, and I want us both to live there."

Now those eyes are wide, surprised and elated. "Are you serious?"

"I know that you might be confused about what you're going to do next year, but I'm not. When I say that I've been thinking about this for years, I mean all of it, babe. Ever since you said you wanted to go to UNC, I've been planning this. Even if we weren't together, I still wanted us to be together." I remove her gla.s.ses, wipe her tears with my thumb. "You've been such a huge part of my life, and I didn't want college to change that. I know that might sound selfish, and it is, but I didn't want to let you go. And now... I hate sleeping in a bed without you in it. I hate waking up and not having you next to me. I'm in this, Lane, and I'm crazy in love with you."

Her mouth meets mine, her lips salty with her tears. "I love you so much, Luke."

"So quit questioning it. Let's just be in love."

"Okay," she whispers, a smile tugging on her lips. She stands up, takes my hand and leads me to the bedroom. She closes the door behind us, making the room as dark as it is outside. Her hand skims my arm, over my shoulder, until she's pulling me down by my neck, her lips finding mine in the darkness. I savor her touch, her kiss, and then she's moving again, until I'm lying on the bed and she's on top of me, straddling my hips, and I know what she wants, I want it just as bad. She removes my t-shirt, kisses down my neck to my collarbone. "This is my favorite part of you," she says. "Whenever you run, the sweat builds here, turns me on so bad."

My hips jerk up, pushing into her. "I want a light on," I tell her. "I want to see you."

She shifts, and I sit up with her, help her take off her jacket, her top. Then she takes my hand, places it over the bare skin of her chest, just over her heart. "You don't need to see, baby. You just need to feel."

I nuzzle her neck, kiss the skin right below her ear and she whispers my name. I try to respond, but all that comes out is a groan. Her nose nudges my chin and I blindly cup her face, and a moment later, her soft, wet lips are on mine. I close my eyes and bring her hips closer. She moans, her lips parting, and I taste her tongue, touch her bare back. I lie back down, flip us over until she's on her back and my hand is on her stomach. A few inches lower and I'll be where I want to be.

She runs her fingers through my hair while I lower my hands to the band of her jeans, sliding a finger side to side. She squirms beneath me, her fingers clenching, tugging my hair, pulling me away from her neck. She kisses me again, soft and slow, and then hard and fast, driving me insane with want, with need. Then she grasps my wrist, guides my hand so I'm moving lower while she unzips her fly. Now I'm under her jeans, above her panties. She's so hot down here, and I tap my fingers against her. She whispers, "Don't tease me, baby."

I'm quick to move the fabric aside and slide a finger inside her. "The way you touch me," she says. "I wish I could erase all other touch, feel nothing but you."

There's something almost magical about getting naked and exploring a person's body with your hands and mouth and sense alone without being able to see the person. Fingers tap and tease and you feel every curve, every dip. Hear every gasp, egging you on to keep doing what you're doing, tasting and swirling and flicking and sucking, and she squirms and she gasps and she moans and she cries out in pleasure, her thighs pressed against my ears, convulsing with her o.r.g.a.s.m, and if that's magical, then her mouth around my c.o.c.k is beyond a f.u.c.king miracle because I've never had an out-of-body experience until now. I close my eyes, let her take me to the edge and then pause. Tease. Edge. Pause. Tease. And I'd love to tell you how long this goes for, but I couldn't even count to ten if you paid me.