"Oh, sweetheart." He sits on the bed next to me, his arm around me. "It won't be any harder for me to hear than it is for you to tell. You're braver than anyone I know."

I wipe my tears again and try to steady my emotions. I want to speak with conviction, with heart. And I do. I tell them about how Cooper and I met. How he'd call every day when he was on campus and we'd see each other every day when he was in town. I mention the jealousy Cooper felt for Luke, but how he restrained it. At least at the beginning. Then he started to do strange things like calling me in the middle of the night to make sure I was alone, that I wasn't with Luke. He'd call my work, make sure I was there when I said I would be. He didn't like me talking to guys. Any guys. And I'd never been in a serious relationship before so back then, I thought it was kind of flattering-the jealousy. He got me a car for my birthday, and I found out later that he installed a GPS tracking device in it. He did the same with my phone. When I realized, I was too scared to go home." I look over at Tom. "That's when you found me sitting in my car on your driveway and I wanted to say something, but I couldn't." I go back to the detectives, tell them how whenever I wasn't with Cooper, he stalked me from a distance. He knew where I was at all times. I tried to leave him during winter break. I said it was too much for me, and he promised he'd stop. New Year's Eve, I was alone in a room on a houseboat and I was sick and I was scared and I needed Luke, he'd always been there in the past. So I called his brother's phone because Cooper had blocked Luke's number, and I knew they'd be together. Cooper came down a few minutes after midnight and caught me talking to someone. It feels strange to say "caught me" as if I was doing something so terribly wrong. In truth, I was negligent with Cooper's wants, his needs, and those are the types of excuses I made throughout the entire relationship. I tell the detectives that New Year's was the first time Cooper hurt me physically. He pushed me against a wall, and I collapsed to the floor and my gla.s.ses went flying. When I went to reach for them, he stomped on my hand and then stomped on the gla.s.ses and he picked me up, his hands tight on my upper arms. He shook me and yelled and shook me some more until I puked all over him, all over myself. He made me clean it up while he went back to the party, to the loud music that hid the evidence of what he'd done to me. I had bruises on my upper arms, but I didn't tell anyone. I hid the truth, hid my shame, hid my guilt. Then I tell the detectives about how when school started again, things got worse. Cooper was under a lot of pressure. Again with the excuses. He had to maintain a certain GPA and his cla.s.ses were killing him and his training was just as bad. His dad was threatening to kill him because his dad's a monster, another excuse, and he started taking amphetamines so he could stay awake, stay alert, but they just made him crazy, paranoid. He became manipulative and vindictive and destructive, and every weekend I spent with him felt like I was walking on eggsh.e.l.ls. He'd always go for the places I could cover up: ribs, back, hips... and he knew I wouldn't tell. He used my weakness to his strength. I tell them about the time Cooper took me to a business dinner with his dad and some of his clients and Cooper's dad kept talking down to him, saying that he would amount to nothing and running track wouldn't earn him a degree and Cooper got so mad, so livid, and we got in his car and he pulled over in an abandoned parking lot and smashed my head against the window. It came out of nowhere. I screamed, and he covered my mouth and then he forced me to...

I stop there.

At the point where Dad releases me, and all I feel is shame.

Then I hear him cry and I look up, but it's not him, it's Tom. Swear, there's nothing sadder than watching a 6"4' man hunched in a seat, his head in his hands, shoulders bouncing, sobs slicing the air.

Mayfield asks, "He raped you?"

My eyebrows pinch, confusion swirling. "No. I mean, I was his girlfriend and I was scared, so I just let him..."

"Oh, Laney," Tom groans, rubbing his face. He looks up, his eyes locked on mine. "Why didn't you come to me, sweetheart? I understand if you were afraid to tell your dad or Lucas, but all these years you've been like a daughter to me. You could have told me."

I break down. Shut down. It hurts too much. Physically and emotionally. I grasp onto Dad, use his shirt to catch my cries. "Can we please stop now? I don't want to do this anymore." I look up at him, speak through my sobs. "Please, Dad, make it stop?"

LUCAS.

I didn't kill Cooper.

Instead, I go outside and get some air, away from the bulls.h.i.t media and the bulls.h.i.t cameras and the bulls.h.i.t reporters who have nothing better to do than wait around a hospital, digging for their next f.u.c.king angle. I go far away, more than a hundred yards, so I don't break my bulls.h.i.t restraining order.

I find a bench under a tree. I sit. I think...

The gla.s.ses.

The clothes.

The blocking me from her phone.

The distance.

"We're still together. It's just hard... you know..."

"There's so much I want to tell you..."

He was controlling.

Unpredictable.

"I managed to escape-"

"I'm so tired, Lucas. Of everything."

"I'm finally free of him."

The darkness during s.e.x.

"Be gentle with me, Lucas."

How did I not see this?

How did I not save her?

"Is this seat taken?"

I look up to see a familiar face. Mrs. Kennedy's standing in front of me, huge sungla.s.ses covering her eyes. She clutches her purse as if I'm here to steal her f.u.c.king money, as if she's not the one who approached me. f.u.c.k you. "No, ma'am. Seat's free."

She sits next to me, crosses her legs. "I didn't know kids still say ma'am."

I look straight ahead. "My mother taught me manners." She taught me a lot of things, like not to beat on women. What the f.u.c.k have you been teaching your son?

I'm sure she knows who I am, but she's faking it, and I'll play her f.u.c.king game and I'll win because I'm sick of f.u.c.king losing. My mom. My freedom. My perspective. My G.o.dd.a.m.n mind.

She pulls out a stick of gum from her purse and offers it to me.

"No, thank you."

We're not friends. We don't share gum. What the h.e.l.l does she want?

"So polite," she mumbles.

"Like I said," I lean back on the bench. "My mother taught me manners."

"It's Katherine, right? Your mother?"

I hate this so much. I hate that my mom's name left the mouth of his mom. I start to leave, but she says, "Lucas?"

I sigh, sit back down. "With all due respect, Mrs. Kennedy, what do you want from me?"

"So you know who I am?"

"I saw you at the hospital the night your son tried to kill my best friend."

"I thought she was your girlfriend."

I face her. "She's both."

She nods, smiles like she has a right to. "I met your mom once, at this charity event. She was dancing with your dad, and I remember looking at them and being so jealous. They loved each other very much."

"Love," I correct.

"Excuse me?"

"They love each other. You said loved. Love doesn't die just because one heart stops beating. When you love someone, you have the same heartbeat and it's still there, just not as strong. So no. There's no loved. Dad still loves her."

She stares at me a long moment, longer than I'm comfortable with. Then she looks away, tries to hide her emotions. "Like you love Lois?"

"Lois is my heart, ma'am."

She sighs, picks at imaginary lint on her f.u.c.k You money dress. "You're lucky."

I'm lucky? My girlfriend's been shot multiples times and I may be going to prison. f.u.c.k you, again, ma'am.

She adds, "I've never known a love like that. I met Lance in high school. He was a lot like Cooper. Popular and handsome and driven."

I don't care.

"The first time Lance laid a hand on me I was seventeen. I didn't have friends or family to run to, so when he said he was sorry and that it wouldn't happen again, I believed him. Through the rest of high school and college, it kept happening. Then I found out I was pregnant and I thought it would change things. We got married and had Cooper and for a while, it was perfect."

I still don't care.

"Cooper was four the first time Lance hit me in front of him. He ran away, up to his room, and locked himself in his closet. He was so scared, so petrified, and when he saw me and the damage his father had done, he started wailing. I should've protected him from it. I should've left Lance, but he was always there, a constant reminder that without him, I'd have nothing. Even if I left, he'd fight for custody of Cooper and I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't let him control our son. But without me realizing, he did it anyway. He wanted to mold Cooper into him, and he succeeded. He put so much pressure on that boy... and Cooper-he didn't know any better. That's what love was to him." She looks away, wipes her eyes, and continues, "I knew about Cooper's amphetamine addiction and I didn't do anything about it, and when Lois called me from the hospital, my worst fears came true. Lance had created an identical version of him."

"Did she tell you what happened... at the hospital?"

She doesn't answer me, instead, she says, "Cooper loved Lois so much and when she wanted to leave him, he lost his way. He wasn't himself that night, Lucas, you have to understand."

"No."

"No?" she asks.

"No. I don't have to understand.' I've sat here and listened to what you've had to say, and it's not good enough and it's not going to change anything. He was still there, he pulled the trigger, four times, and she's lying in a hospital bed minus a spleen with two bullets still inside her and you want to see justice. You want me behind bars because I did something someone should've done to your husband a long time ago. If you came here to try and make peace with yourself, I hope it helped. But there's no peace for me, and there's definitely none for Lois."

She nods, removes her sungla.s.ses so she can wipe her tears. I don't miss the scars, the darkness and swelling around her eyes, and for a moment, I feel for her.

Really.

Truly.

She asks, "Do you regret what you did?"

I think about the answer long and hard. "Every time I close my eyes, I see Laney. I see her lying on the ground in her blood-stained dress, and I didn't realize it at the time-I thought she was clutching her chest, clutching for breath, but she was holding on to this necklace my mother left her. I keep going back to that moment, and I try to come up with all these different scenarios. Try to think of other ways I could've handled it, and I can't. I just can't." I take a breath, look down at my hands, picture her blood on them. "I'm not sure if I'll ever regret what I did, but I regret hurting you in the process." I look up at her, meet her gaze. "I have five little brothers, Mrs. Kennedy. The youngest one's seven, and for some reason, he looks at me like I'm some kind of hero, and now it's up to my other brothers to try to explain why his hero is going to prison." I stand up, face her. "I'm sorry that you had to experience all that you've been through, ma'am. And if my mom were alive, she'd want me to open up my home to you, somewhere safe you can go if you get scared. And so the offer is there if you need it. But the excuses have to stop. For you, for Cooper, for Lois."

Then I head back to the hospital, make my way to Lane's room. I ignore the stupid flowers and stupid gifts and stupid police protection just outside Cooper's room and prepare myself to face-off with the detectives, but just before I open the door, my phone rings.

It's Chapel Hill.

UNC.

They've pulled my scholarship.

Chapter Thirty-Seven.

LUCAS.

There's this nightmare I have, only it doesn't just happen at night. It happens every time I close my eyes. I'm on my knees and she's in her periwinkle dress, limp in my arms. She offers me those eyes and that's when I get handcuffed, dragged away, and then I'm in a jail cell, bright orange jumpsuit, and in the middle of my cell is a giant hole in the ground, six feet deep, and in my dream, I always tell myself not to look because I know what's in there, who's in there. Still, I look, and there's Lane, her arms crossed at her chest, and those eyes are closed and covered with crochet flowers.

"That's a little morbid, Luke," Laney said after I told her about the nightmare, the visions.

It's now been six days and twelve hours since the incident that's been dubbed The Night the Town Turned Red, Blue and Black. Three days since Cooper left his hospital room with a few broken ribs, a busted jaw and some bruising that won't be going away any time soon. But, at least he's not there, meaning I can see Laney whenever I want. It's also three days until my trial. My lawyers say I'm lucky I'm not being charged with attempted murder, but given the evidence (Logan's video) and the circ.u.mstances, Cooper with a gun (premeditated) and me with my anger, it would be easier for the Kennedys to get what they want on the a.s.sault and battery charges alone. The Kennedys had requested a different judge, someone who will see the facts, aka someone who accepts their f.u.c.k You money. Their request was granted, so there are no doubts I'm going away. The question is for how long.

I watch Garray's car come up our driveway, then focus on Lachlan running around the front yard in his underwear, the sprinklers on, and I wish his laughter had the same effect as Laney's-that it shifted reality-just an inch. Because I don't want to be sitting on the porch steps looking at my baby brother and taking in the sight and sound of him, not knowing how long it'll be until I see this again, and I'm numb and I'm tired. So f.u.c.king tired.

Garray steps out of his car with a bunch of flowers and stops in front of me, a.s.sesses me. Without a word, he sits next to me, places the flowers between us. "I don't even know what to say," he mumbles.

"There's not a lot you can say."

Lachlan's standing in front of a jet of water, drinking it in.

"Lachy, don't do that, bud. The water's from the tank, it's not clean."

He spits out the water, laughs as he jumps through the maze of sprays.

"I heard about the trial coming up," he says. "I'll be there, Luke, not that it matters. And I spoke to Princ.i.p.al Jenkins; he a.s.sures me that you and Lois are going to graduate regardless."

Senior year.

Graduation.

It feels like a different life.

He asks, "How are Leo and Logan doing?"

I sigh. "Leo's locked himself in his room. He refuses to talk about it, refuses to see Lane. And Logan's going to therapy every day. It was tough on him."

"Yeah," Garray says. "They have that at school. The therapy. And now they're installing metal detectors at the doors and adding a security guard. It didn't even happen at the school."