Trent and all the good that he brought to my life is dead. It was never really alive.

Storm speaks up now, for the first time since Carter stepped in. “Kacey, Dan wants you to press charges against Trent. What he did is wrong and illegal and fucked up on so many levels. He deserves to go to jail.”

I smirk to myself. Storm never swears. She must be really mad.

“But I made him wait to report it until you were feeling better and you could make the call. I thought that should be your call.” She adds with a low growl, “even though I want to shoot the bastard in the head.”

I nod slowly. Report Trent. Charge Trent. Trent goes to jail.

“His mother and I understand if you want to press charges,” Carter says calmly, but I see his shoulders droop as he casts away his only son.

“No.” The word surprises even me as it leaves my lips.

Carter’s brow curves, surprised. “No?”

“Kacey, are you sure?” Livie asks, her hand squeezing mine.

I look at her and I nod. I have no idea why, but I know that I don’t want to do that. I’m sure I hate Trent. I’m sure I have to hate him because he’s Cole and hatred for Cole is all that I know.

I look up at Carter, imagining this man pull his son’s limp body from his car, and it’s not hatred that I feel right now, though. It’s pity. For him, and for Trent, because I’m intimately familiar with the level of pain that would drive a person to do that. It’s an end that has danced through my own thoughts once or twice in the years.

“No. No charges. No police. It won’t change anything. It never has.”

Carter squeezes his eyelids shut for a moment. “Thank you.” The words are hoarse and full of emotion. He clears his throat. With a look at Livie, he adds, “I understand there is a matter of Livie’s custody.”

“No, there’s no matter. She’s under my custody.” I turn to glare at Livie. Why did she tell him?

“I called Aunt Darla,” she explained softly. “I didn’t know if you were going to make it for a while. She said she could take me home with her and—”

“No! No! You can’t leave me,” I yell suddenly, my heart rate spiking.

“She’s not going anywhere, Kacey,” Carter promises. “Except back to Miami to go to school. My firm will ensure all the legal custody paperwork is drawn up. Custody may need to go to Ms. Matthews for now, until you’re better or Livie is old enough.”

I nod numbly. “Th … thanks.” He’s helping us. Why is he helping us?

He gives me a firm smile. “I’ve also had a conversation with your uncle.” His eyes turn cold and hard. “There is still insurance money left, Kacey. He didn’t squander it all. I’ll see to it that it is all transferred into yours and you sister’s name.” He pulls something from his inside coat pocket. “Here’s my business card, should you ever need anything. Ever, Kacey. Livie. Anything. I will help in any way that I can.” He places it on a side table.

With a nod to Dr. Stayner, he heads toward the door, his shoulders slouched as if carrying a terrible burden. And I suppose he is, after what his son has done. He stops with a hand on the doorknob. “For what it’s worth, I’ve never seen Trent as happy as he’s been while with you. Never.”

***

I stare at the clinic’s large oak doors. They contrast so greatly to the sterile white stucco exterior. Still, it’s a nice building.

My home for the next little while.

A tiny hand slips inside mine and I don’t recoil. “Don’t worry. It’s not so bad and, if you’re good, when you get out, we’ll go get ice cream,” Mia says with a somber face. She and Dan spent their time visiting Chicago’s zoos and parks while Storm stayed with me. Now, they’re here to see me off. She raises her free hand with two fingers held high. “Three scoops!”

Storm slides up behind her with Dan hanging onto her arm, laughing. “That’s right, Mia.” She winks at me.

“Ready?” Livie asks, hooking her arm through mine.

Inhaling deeply, I look at the place again. “It looks a little posh.”

“Don’t worry. I know a guy who knows a guy … who knows a guy.” Dan grins. For some reason, I don’t believe him. I have a feeling that Carter Reynolds’s manicured hands are somehow in the mix. Maybe I’m a buy one get one free offer for Stayner not curing his son in the first place. For once though, I don’t fight it.

Livie and I walk forward, our steps mirroring each other. “Thank you for doing this, Kacey,” she whispers, wiping away the tear that rolls down her cheek.

A man in a light blue uniform opens the door and reaches forward, offering to take my bag.

“I’ll call as often as they let me,” Livie calls out, giving my forearm one last squeeze before letting go.

I wink, putting on a brave face for her. “See you above water.”

Chapter Eighteen

I won’t survive this.

I can’t survive this.

All they want me to do is talk. Talk and talk and talk. About my feelings, my nightmares, the almost assault on Storm’s attacker, my dead parents, Jenny, Billy, Trent. Every time I shove it all back into that dark, cramped closet where it belongs, Dr. Stayner barges in and drags it back out like a madman on a mission, with me kicking and screaming as I hang onto his coattails.

None of this will help me.

Neither will the anti-anxiety meds. They make me feel tired and nauseous. Dr. Stayner tells me they take time to work.

I tell him I’m going to punch him in the face.

I hate his guts.

And when I close my eyes at night, Trent is there to greet me, laughing. Always laughing.

I tell that to Dr. Stayner one day in his office, during my daily private session. “Do you think he’s laughing, Kacey?” he asks.

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”

“No, you told me you had a dream about him laughing at you. But do you believe that he’s laughing?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t you?”

I glare at him. This conversation has gone on far longer than I expected. This is what I get for opening my big mouth. Normally, I stay quiet and give simple “yes” and “no” answers. Those have worked well for me so far. I don’t know why I thought this would be an innocuous topic.

“Let’s think about this a moment, shall we, Kacey?” He leans back in his chair and he just sits there, watching me. Is he thinking about this? Does he think I’m thinking? This is unnerving. I let my focus roam around his office as a distraction from the awkwardness. It’s small and clinical. He has walls upon walls of books just like any normal shrink should have. But he’s not like any other shrink that I’ve met. I don’t know how to describe him. His voice, his mannerisms, they’re all unusual.

“Trent is a young college guy who drank too much one night—like most college students. Then he made a horrible, stupid mistake.”

My hands clench and I lean forward in my chair, imagining myself spurting acid from my teeth to melt Stayner’s skin. “Mistake?” I hiss. I hate that word. I hate when they use that word to describe that night. “My parents are dead.”

Dr. Stayner’s finger pokes the air. “That’s the result of his horrible, stupid mistake. That’s not his horrible, stupid mistake, though is it?” When I don’t answer, too busy glaring at the navy blue checker carpet on the ground, I feel something pelt my forehead. I look down to see a paperclip on my lap.

“Did you just throw a paperclip at me?” I ask with complete sincere shock.

“Answer the question.”

I grit my teeth.

“What was Trent’s horrible, stupid, life-altering mistake?” Dr. Stayner pushes.

“He drove home,” I grumble.

Another paperclip pelts my forehead as Dr. Stayner shakes his head frantically, his voice raising a notch. “No.”

“He gave his keys to his friend to drive home.”

“Bingo! He made a choice—in his inebriated state—a choice that he shouldn’t ever have made. A very bad and very dangerous choice. And when he sobered up, he learned that that choice killed six people.” There’s a long pause. “Put yourself in his shoes for moment, Kacey.”