I focused on my friend, who was peering at me with a mixture of concern and blatant incredulity. My mouth stretched into a mildly lunatic caricature of a smile, and Brooks blinked, clearly disturbed by my psycho grin. “Just spaced out for a minute, sorry,” I said a bit too brightly, reaching into the bowl of popcorn in his lap.

I felt like Brooks and Renee spent most of their time on “Aubrey watch,” waiting for me to crack and lose my shit. And to be fair, it was an honest concern. I was one giant, waving red flag of impending doom.

Brooks gave a disingenuous laugh and it was obvious that he, too, was trying desperately to force himself back into a role that wasn’t necessarily his anymore.

“So, are you ready for graduation?” I asked, steering the subject into what felt like “normal” territory, and immediately hoping that he wouldn’t point the question back at me.

Where is your life headed, Aubrey? Abort! Abort! Scary life planning ahead, detour into blissful ignorance!

“I guess. I won’t hear about grad school for another month or so. But I think I’ve got all of my ducks in a row. What about you? Have you thought about what you’re going to do after you graduate next year? Are you still thinking of applying for the LPC program?” Brooks was referring to the Licensed Professional Counseling program at Longwood. Six months ago, that had been my plan, which was why I was putting in all of the volunteer hours—essential for graduation and it looks great on grad school applications.

I took a deep, calming breath. “I’m not so sure that’s an option right now, considering everything that has happened. Hell, I doubt Dr. Lowell or anyone else in the department would be in a rush to give me a recommendation anytime soon,” I said, with only the teensiest bit of bitterness.

“Eh, you don’t know. Just ride out the suspension, do what you need to do and keep your nose clean. You’ll be Dr. Lowell’s darling again in no time.”

“We’ll see, I guess. But what about you? Is Longwood still your first choice? Haven’t you had enough of our boring little campus?” I asked.

I had been surprised to learn that Brooks had plans to pursue his graduate degree at Longwood University. The graduate counseling program was decent, but with his grades he could go anywhere. I knew my reasons for wanting to stay had always been about putting down roots in a place that felt comfortable. But that was back before staying at the same, tiny campus hadn’t meant facing the aftermath of your screwup every day.

Now change didn’t seem like such a bad thing, and the idea of leaving no longer left a bad taste in my mouth. In fact, it seemed like the best option I had.

“I don’t know. I like it here. I like the professors. I think there are a lot of benefits to staying.” Brooks’s eyes flickered over to me, barely making contact.

“Yeah, well, I think you’re kind of crazy, Brooks. I’m beginning to see a lot of merit in getting the hell out of Dodge,” I stated.

“Give yourself some time to get over all of this, Aubrey. And then you may feel differently,” Brooks argued.

Give yourself some time to get over all of this. The words bounced around in my skull, tattooing themselves on my brain. It had been my mantra since I had left Maxx. I was convinced that time was all I needed. Even if there was a niggling of doubt that I was deluding myself.

“Sure, maybe you’re right,” I agreed, working to convince both of us. Even though I knew how ridiculous it was to tell someone to give it time. No words in the history of words were less helpful. When you were going through something horrible, the last thing you wanted to hear was one day, down the road, you’ll feel better again. Not when you wanted to feel better right now!

My phone started to ring, and I looked down to see the number that flashed across the screen. It was a phone call I had been avoiding for the past three weeks. The phone call that could turn my sort of crappy day into a full-blown shit fest. I heard the melodramatic booming of drums in my head as I stared down at the vibrating phone.

“Ugh,” I groaned, picking up my phone, my thumb hovering over the ignore button.

“Your mom again?” Brooks asked.

I nodded. He had seen me send her calls to voice mail multiple times over the past few days.

“Have you spoken to your parents since your hearing?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Nope.”

I’d been startled by a call from my mom a few days earlier. Apparently Dr. Jamison had called them in advance of my disciplinary panel, and to say my mother had been unhappy to hear about all that had taken place was a drastic understatement. I then had to endure forty-five minutes of hearing about her disappointment. It had been the first time we’d spoken in months, which doubly pissed me off. I felt like my parents had lost the right to vocalize any opinions on my life, given that they hadn’t taken the slightest interest in it since Jayme died. So having to sit silently and take the acid oozing from her mouth had almost tipped me over the edge.

As much as I tried not to let my mother get to me, it was impossible to ignore how much it hurt to hear her ugliness. She had gone straight for the jugular. She had been merciless and hateful. Jayme would never have done something like this. You should do better for her if you can’t do it for yourself.

How quickly my mother had forgotten the truth of who my fifteen-year-old sister had been. She had turned a complete blind eye to the grief Jayme had put our entire family through. And even though I loved my sister and missed her every day, I hadn’t forgotten about why she was no longer with us. But it seemed as though my parents had reframed her death in their minds and turned it into something they could live with.

The counselor side of me understood and accepted this. The daughter side, not so much. It made me resentful and angry and less than willing to revisit that particular brand of heartache by answering my mother’s calls.

“Don’t you think you should answer it? You know she’ll just keep calling until you do. Might as well get it out of the way. Like ripping off a Band-Aid,” Brooks advised, and I rolled my eyes, hating his calm rationale.

“Well, you’d better go, then. Because this won’t be something I need an audience for,” I said just as the phone stopped ringing. I knew she would call back in a few minutes, as had become her habit this week.

“Are you sure? I can stay if you need me to,” Brooks offered. Even though I appreciated his thoughtfulness, I knew that nothing would help me deal with whatever my mother had to say.

“Nah. You go on. I’ll meet up with you at the commons for dinner, okay?” I suggested just as my phone started ringing again.

Brooks looked down at my phone and then into my face, his eyes softening. “Okay. But you know how to reach me if you need to. I’m always here. Don’t forget that.”

“Thanks, Brooks,” I said as he leaned down to kiss my forehead, his lips lingering. I ignored the implications of his less-than-innocent gesture and gave him a shaky smile, lifting my phone up to indicate that I was about to answer it.

“Good luck, kiddo,” he called out as he left.

I blew a noisy breath out of my nose and put the phone to my ear.

“Hello?” I said cheerily.

“I got a letter in the mail about the outcome of your hearing. I wanted to talk to you about it,” my mother said by way of greeting, getting right to the point.

“Why?” I asked, knowing my attitude would piss her off. But I wasn’t in the mood to really care.

“What is wrong with you, Bre? This is serious. What in the world are you going to do now?” Her use of my sister’s nickname for me made me cringe. It always did.

“Major in basket weaving?” I said dryly.

I could practically hear my mother grinding her teeth. “I think you should come home for a visit. It’s clear that things have gotten out of control up there. You’ve lost sight of what you’re doing and where you’re headed.”