Maggie sauntered up the drive in a pair of bell-bottom jeans, avoiding rain puddles as not to soil her platform sandals. She did this while balancing a Saran-wrapped plate in her right hand. Avis opened the door before she had a chance to ring the bell.

“Audra,” Maggie said.

“Maggie.” Avis gave her a weary smile. “Hey, I . . .” Hesitation. “I wasn’t expecting you. You should have called. Where’s Eloise?”

“At my mother’s. And since when do I need to call before coming over?” Maggie peered over Avis’s shoulder and into the living room, then crushed the plate of what looked to be cookies against Avis’s chest, nudging her out of the way. “What’s this?” Raising an eyebrow, she noted the trio in the living room. An outburst of laughter sounded from somewhere upstairs. She shot a look up the steps, her face a mask of surprise.

“Just some friends,” Avis said, keeping her voice down.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

Avis glanced down at her feet. She felt bad, like the worst friend in the world. Maggie had always been there for her, and what had Avis done? She’d cut Maggie out, had kept the group a secret, as though Maggie hadn’t been important enough to be privy to such a huge change in her life.

But Maggie had a tendency to puff up like a peacock around people she didn’t know. She was smart and pretty and had a weakness for showboating—all traits that Avis found more threatening than before. She had yet to properly forge a relationship with Jeff. How would she make that happen if Maggie stole his attention away?

“Audra Snow, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve been a rotten friend.” She made her statement at full volume to garner attention. When Avis shot a glance back to the living room, wondering if anyone had heard her above the din of the TV, her stomach twisted. Jeff and both girls were watching them from the couch. Jeffrey’s expression seemed to be a careful balance of curiosity and fascination. Clover and Gypsy exchanged a knowing look before allowing their attention to return to Avis and her friend.

Other than shoving her out the door and ruining their friendship, Avis had no choice but to let Maggie float by her and into the living room. As soon as she did, a wide smile replaced Maggie’s annoyance.

“Hi there,” she singsonged, homing in on Jeff like a cheerleader sniffing out a quarterback. “I’m Maggie, Audra’s friend. I live just next door.” She caught one of Jeff’s hands with both of hers. Nausea roiled at the pit of Avis’s stomach as she watched them, Jeffrey’s mouth curling up into a strange, amused sort of smile. “And you are?”

“Jeffrey.”

His voice twisted Avis up. Her nausea grew tenfold. Suddenly, realization hit her. Perhaps she’d just run out of time to make that lasting impression. Maggie was going to steal away the man that was supposed to save Avis from herself.

Gypsy introduced herself, her voice deep and husky, like Stevie Nicks’s. She fingered the cross around her neck, as if considering something, then nodded to her cohort. “This is Clover.” Clover smiled, then exhaled a quiet laugh at something funny. “And Avis . . .” Gypsy motioned to her, reintroducing everyone’s host by her newly given name.

Every nerve in Avis’s body sizzled at the vocalization of that name. The moniker that had felt so right over the past few days felt fake now, as though she was only pretending to be someone she wasn’t.

“Avis . . . ?” Maggie gave her a questioning look.

“She likes it better,” Clover said. “It means ‘bird.’ ”

Avis’s face felt hot. Maybe she was supposed to stay Audra after all. The sudden flush of her cheeks might be proof that her life would never be different, that she was doomed to remain the person she’d always been—isolated, unseen.

“I’ll go make some coffee,” Avis murmured. She turned away from them, the plate of Maggie’s cookies held in both hands. Ducking into the kitchen, she slid the plate onto the island. Laughter sounded from the living room as soon as she left. Were they laughing at her? Anxiety rolled inside her like an undertow, threatening to overwhelm her, to stifle her with her own dismay.

This isn’t right, she thought. This isn’t me. Who am I kidding? I’m not Avis. This will never be my life.

Perhaps it had all been a mistake—inviting Deacon and his group to stay with her, befriending them at all. Deacon had convinced her that she was strong enough to surrender to change, but the longer she stood at that kitchen counter, the less she believed it to be true. She wanted to change, but she was weak. She wanted to be part of something bigger, but she was nonessential; she had nothing to offer. Her mother had been right. She was irrelevant. Inconsequential. Hardly worth mentioning at all.

The earth seemed to tip beneath her feet. With her fingers wrapped around the edge of the sink, Avis—no, she was still Audra—crouched to stop the world from spinning only to feel a hand press against her back. When she looked up, Jeffrey stood above her, his face a mask of concern.

“Come on,” he said, “let’s get you some air.”

And before she knew it, it was just the two of them standing out in the twilight, his arms around her, her pulse thudding inside her head.

Maybe it was the tender way his arm had looped around her shoulders, or that worn leather smell that clung to him even when he wasn’t wearing his jacket. Regardless of what compelled her, she tucked her arms against herself and turned toward him as if to block out the world. Lifting her hand, she dared to repeat the gesture he had done the first time they had met. She caught a strand of his hair between her fingers and held it in a wordless hello.

“I need you to understand,” he said, “we don’t take adopting people into our circle lightly. We only allow those who truly want to be part of our group, those who we believe we can trust with our lives into our family. It’s what keeps us honest, what keeps us faithful, what makes us unwavering in our beliefs.”

“Your beliefs,” she echoed back to him. “Like love and friendship . . .”

“Like whatever we deem worthy to believe in,” he said. “It’s everyone’s job to have faith in whatever belief we adopt, because every belief is for the good of the group and the good of our hearts.”

Blind faith, she thought. They don’t know what Jeff is going to ask them to believe in; they only know that they’re going to believe. It was a dangerous proposition, like signing a contract without reading a word. A red flag waved wildly in the back of her mind, assuring her that only the insane would agree to such allegiance. No free-thinking human being could offer the type of undiluted loyalty Jeffrey was describing. Every aspect of such devotion went against what she knew about free will.

And yet she remained in his arms, unflinching, because the idea of him telling her what to believe in was better than battling inner demons and figuring it out on her own. She’d spent her entire life feeling hollow, not knowing where to place her convictions. Jeffrey could relieve her of that indecision. He was offering to erase her uncertainty, promising to quell her meekness. Believing in the group was, in essence, believing in herself. If she believed, maybe she could be Avis after all.

“To be with us, you have to forget about your own individual needs. Everything we do, we do for each other. Do you understand?”

He pulled her closer, and it was then and there that she decided Deacon was right. Jeffrey would make things better. She had sloughed off her individual need for solitude when she had invited them all to live in her home; the group had given her a new name and constant companionship in return.

Jeffrey was real, what he was saying was true. If she made her old self disappear, she’d become something more than she was. Something better.