I swat his arm and then sit down onto Kayden’s lap,

immediately overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne. His slings

an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into him as he guides

the seat belt down from behind himself and fastens it over both of

us. It’s snowing outside and fluffy flakes are stuck in the brown

locks of his hair. I run my hand gently along the top of his head

and dust them out. Some of them melt from my body heat and his

hair ends up with this wet, sexy look.

“So where do we still have to go?” Luke asks as he tosses his

bag into the back of the truck that still has Kayden’s motorcycle in

it, and then he hops in and slams the door. The truck is already

running and he turns up the heater and hot air blasts out from the

vents.

“To my house,” I say. “And…” I look at Kayden. He hasn’t

been home since we took off to San Diego and I can tell he

doesn’t want to go back. But he has to go back and get his clothes

and stuff and I think deep down he might want to talk to his

brother Tyler. “And to Kayden’s, I think.”

The cab becomes silent and then Luke sighs and drives out

onto the main road, flipping on the wipers. The roads are a little

slushy and slick so he reaches to the small shifter in the center and shoves it into four-wheel drive. The truck makes a loud thud and

jerks as it slides into gear.

“Jesus.” Seth makes a face as he turns his legs to the side and

adjusts his seat belt, which has tightened. “It feels like it’s going to fall apart.”

Luke pats the dash. “It’s fine. It’s just old.”

Seth rolls his eyes and then crosses his arms. We all remain

quiet as he veers off roads and makes turns down the narrow

streets. The radio plays “Wonderwall,” by Oasis, and then “Hands

Down,” by Dashboard Confessionals. When he pulls into the

driveway beside my house, Luke puts it into park and mutters,

“Hurry up.”

“Relax,” Kayden tells him, flipping the handle and pushing

open the door. He brings his foot to the ground and climbs out,

moving me out with him. Once my feet are planted firmly to the

ground, he releases his grip on me and slams the door.

I don’t ask questions when he takes my hand and walks up

the driveway with me. He never said anything about coming inside,

but I think in his own head he’s protecting me. We walk up the

steps and I try not to think about the haunting memories inside

out and out. Instead, I think about the good ones that I spent with

Kayden and Seth.

By the time we reach the top of the stairs, my mother is

swinging the door open. She has on an apron over a floral cream

skirt and a white shirt trimmed with lace. Her hair is curled up at

the ends and she has a string of pearls around her neck. She also

has a plate of chocolate chip cookies in her hand and she’s smiling

brightly. I can tell Kayden’s trying really hard not to laugh at the

Leave It to Beaver theme she’s got going on.

“I’m so glad you decided to stop by,” she says and then pulls

me in for a hug while balancing the cookies in her hand. She

moves back and then hugs Kayden too. He pats her back,

awkwardly exchanging a confounded look with me.

But all I can do is smile. At that moment, I love my mother,

the cookies, and the 1960s dresses and all because I’m pretty sure

no one has hugged Kayden like that besides me. She urges the

plate of cookies at us, and shaking my head with a tiny smile, I take a one to make her happy. I had accidentally let it slip during on a

phone conversation about my throwing-up problem and I’m pretty

sure for the rest of my life she will probably try to overfeed me.

The good-byes are quick and my dad and Kayden even chat

a little bit about football. They don’t ask him questions about what

happened with Caleb or his dad, even though the gossip around

town is spinning into stories full of suicide, attempted murder, and

every felony charge imaginable.

We’re heading out to the truck when Jackson’s car pulls into

the driveway. My initial reaction is to run away from him, because

he’s usually got Caleb attached to his hip. But there’s no one

sitting in the passenger seat so I relax and let out a loud breath.

“You coming?” Kayden asks, and I realize I’m standing in the

middle of the driveway, staring at my brother.

I hold up a finger, indicating I need a minute. “Just a sec.”

He eyes me with worry in his green eyes. “Are you sure?”

I nod as my brother climbs out of the car. He’s looking at me

and I can’t read his stoic expression at all. “Yeah, I just need to talk to him.”

Kayden nods and then he heads for the truck, passing

Jackson along the way. They mutter a hello and then Kayden

climbs inside. He never takes his eyes off me as I wander over to

the steps and take a seat on the bottom stair, the light layer of

frost on the cement seeping through the backside of my jeans.

Jackson walks up to me with his hands stuffed into his plaid

hooded jacket. His brown hair hangs over his ears and his

sideburns look like they could use a trim. He rocks back on his

heels, appearing apprehensive as he looks at me.

“Look, Callie, I don’t even know what to say,” he starts. “I

guess… I guess I’m sorry.”

I’m a little shocked by his declaration and my gaze darts to

the ground, my forehead creasing. “You don’t need to be sorry. It’s

not your fault.”

He drops down on the steps and stretches out his legs in

front of him and then crosses his ankles. He smells like cigarette

smoke and booze. I didn’t even know he smoked, but then again, I

don’t really know him, not really. Even when we were kids, we were

kind of competitive, and then when the thing with Caleb happened

any hope of a brotherly-sisterly bond shattered.

“I turned him in,” he finally proclaims. His cheeks suck in as

he inhales and then they puff back out as he releases a breath.

“Thank you,” I say. “But the police won’t do anything. They

really can’t. It’s been too long and it’s basically just his word

against mine.”

He shakes his head and rubs his hand across his stubbly jaw.

“Not for that… I already knew that wouldn’t do any good.” His

hand drops to his lap. “I turned him in for growing pot in his

parents’ basement. I even told the police where he keeps his own

stash.”

I’m stunned. Speechless. Unsure. Happy. Amazed. Thankful.

“So he’s… so he’s in jail?”

“No, not yet.” He sighs heavily. “When mom told me about…”

He clears his throat at the uneasiness of the topic. “About what

happened to you, I was at a party with him. As soon as I

confronted him, he totally fucking bailed on me before I could