Prologue

Reed

NOVEMBER

I must’ve been hit by a bus, because my eyes are stuck shut, my ears are ringing, and everywhere hurts. Someone asks if I’m okay.

I’m not okay.

I might never be okay again.

Time served, my lawyer said. The words echo, like a rumble of thunder that only continues to grow. It swells, until it’s all I can hear. The plea deal is final. There’s nothing more we can do about it.

“Reed?” Amanda asks again as she strokes my cheek. My tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth. “He’s having a panic attack. Mom, can you get a cool washcloth? You’re okay, Reed. You’re in your house, in Los Angeles, with me and Mom.”

I grit my teeth, clenching my fist against a wave of nausea that pushes hot bile up my throat. Fresh blood seeps from my ravaged knuckles, and I close my eyes against the pain.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” I say. I’ve got to be bleeding rivers all over the floor, because there are thousands of tiny cuts across my skin. Every joy Kinley took from me, every betrayal, every night I refused to sleep for fear of what I’d wake up to—each slices me open and shreds me into scraps.

“You don’t have to be,” Mom says. “Come live with me for a while. We’ll get you back on your feet. ”

But I wasn’t talking about Los Angeles.

“This will be cold against your neck,” Amanda says. She’s soft and patient, as she’s been through this with me before. I flinch as the washcloth makes contact, though the fuzziness in my ears clears instantly. “There you go. I’m here.”

Mom’s trembling hand closes over my arm in a spot that itches and moves restlessly. A spot that she refuses to let me see. She pulls my sleeve down to my wrist and wipes at her face. “I hate what she’s done to you.”

Mom doesn’t know everything, but my sister does. Amanda’s face is solemn, but she’s not crying. “You are strong,” she says. “You are resilient, smart, and brave. This is not how this ends. You hear me, Reed Alexander? She’s not going to get off that quickly or easily. This is not how this ends.”

“Okay,” I rasp. “I hear you.”

“We’ll figure it out together.” Amanda’s fingers are soft as they curl around my hand. “Just breathe.”

“I can’t stay here. I can’t live here.” Each inhale is too thin. My lungs expand as though they’re pressing against fiberglass, and I hate it. I hate my skin. This house. I hate Los Angeles and that my life here went up in smoke.

I take in both of them, with their watery smiles and light blue eyes. Two of my three rocks. I wish Grant was here to make a joke, or talk to me without pity dripping from his features. Mom says something, but it’s Amanda I turn to. Amanda who pins my gaze with hers, steely and determined. “I’ll call the storage company. We’ll move you out tomorrow, and you can come back to Iowa with us,” Amanda decides. She leans forward to kiss my forehead, but I turn away. Though she purses her lips, she gives me space. “I know it’s going to take time, but we’ll get there, Reed.”

I’m not as sure. I wish I was a snake and could slough off my skin. Shed this house, this city, this life, and go somewhere Kinley can’t haunt me. I’ll run forever if I have to.

Easier said than done. I wouldn’t be surprised if she followed me to my grave.