We run in silence for a few moments before Reagan says, “You know you can tell me anything you want to, right?”

I smile down at my tiny friend. “I know.” I pause. “And you know you can tell me anything, right?”

Her wide, cheery grin—with those cute dimples just under her eyes—answers for her.

I decide that this is the perfect time to divert the topic completely. “Like you can stop pretending that you and Grant aren’t together.” I manage to grab hold of Reagan’s arm just in time to keep her from diving into the pavement. When she has regained her balance, she turns to stare wide-eyed at me, her cheeks flaming. “I thought you were impervious to blushing, Reagan.”

“You can’t say anything!” she hisses, her ponytail wagging as she checks to her left and right, her eyes narrowing at the bushes as if someone might be hiding behind there. “No one knows, Livie.”

“Are you serious? You think no one knows?” I watch with great satisfaction as her blush deepens. “I think everyone knows. Or at least suspects.” Connor made an off-hand comment the other day about Grant chasing Reagan around. I’ve even noticed Ty shaking his head at them a few times and if he’s clued in, then the rest of the world must be.

She bites her lip in thought. “Come on. We can’t just stand here.” We start back up at a light jog. “I guess it’s been brewing for a while. I’ve always liked him and he’s been flirting with me for the past year. Then I ran into him at the library one night. There was a quiet corner. No one was around . . .” She shrugs. “It just kind of happened.”

“In the library!” I squeal.

“Shhh!” Her hands wave in front of her as she runs, giggling.

“But . . .” I feel my face scrunch up. “Where?” I’ve been to that library plenty of times. I can’t think of any corner dark and secluded enough to do anything in besides read.

She grins impishly. “Why? Want to get your freak on with Connor?”

“No!” Just thinking of suggesting that to Connor makes me scowl at Reagan.

That doesn’t dissuade her, though. With a quirked eyebrow, she asks, “Ashton?”

I feel the burn crawl up my neck. “There’s nothing going on between us.”

“Livie, I saw you two at Shawshanks the other night. I see the looks you give him. When are you going to admit it?”

“What? That I have a roommate with an overactive imagination?”

I get an eye roll. “You know that the more time passes, the harder this is going to get, right?”

“No, it won’t, because nothing is going on between us!” Remembering, I ask, “Hey, did he break up with Dana?”

She shrugs. “I haven’t heard anything, but with him, who knows. Ashton’s a vault.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he could have a dozen brothers and sisters and you’d never know.” Reagan breaks to chug a mouthful of water from her bottle. Wiping her arm across her mouth, she continues, “My dad makes a point of knowing his team. You know—their families, their grades, their majors, their plans after college . . . He thinks of them all as his boys.” Thinking back to the big, burly man from the weekend and all the pats on the back and the questions, I can see what she means. “But he knows very little about his own captain. Almost nothing.”

“Huh . . . I wonder why.” Small alarm bells start ringing in my head.

“Grant thinks it has something to do with his mom dying.”

My feet stop moving. They just stop. Reagan slows to jog in place.

“How?” I ask, taking a deep breath. Meeting other people who lost their parents always strikes a chord deep within me. Even complete strangers can instantly become friends through that kind of familiarity.

“No, clue, Livie. I only know because I was eavesdropping on him and my dad one night in our study. But that’s all that my dad managed to get out of him. He has a way of evading topics. I mean . . . you’ve met Ashton. You know what he’s like.”

“Yeah, I do.” With a growing pain in my stomach, I also know that not talking about things like that normally means there’s a reason. A bad reason.

“Come on.” She gives my butt a slap and starts moving forward again.

I’m forced to join her, though I don’t feel like running anymore. I want to sit and think. Vaguely remembering what Connor told me at Tiger Inn, I ask, “Have you met his dad?”

“At the fall race. He’s usually there with a woman.”

“A wife?”

“I’ve seen a few different ones over the past four years. Maybe they’re wives. Who knows? Then again, Ashton fell from that tree, so . . .” She turns to give me a pointed stare.

“And what’s he like?”

“He seems normal enough.” There’s a pause. “Though I get a weird vibe around them together. Like Ashton’s very careful about what he says and does.”

So Connor’s not the only one who senses something off . . .

“Anyway, so what if he did?”

“So what if he did . . . what?” I repeat slowly, not understanding.

“What if he broke up with Dana?”

“Oh.” Reagan may avoid awkward situations, but she doesn’t hold back on asking the hard questions. I like that about her. Right now, though, I could do without the interrogation. “Then nothing. I’m with Connor. I think.”

“Yeah, what’s going on with you two anyway? Have you . . .” She raises her brow suggestively.

I only shake my head and mutter, “You’re as bad as my sister. No. We’re taking it slow and easy.”

“Sounds boring if you ask me,” she mutters dryly. ”I’ll bet you’d take it hard and fast with Ashton.”

“Reagan!” I give her a playful shove and she starts giggling. But the thought has my stomach doing cartwheels. What if I were with Ashton instead of Connor? No. Impossible.

“You just seem so different around Ashton. And anything to do with Ashton.”

I snort. “Angry?”

She grins. “Passionate.”

Desperate to get the topic off me, I ask, “So are you and Grant together?”

Deftly leaping over a puddle, Reagan says, “I’m not sure yet. We’re pretty casual. Not ready to throw a label on it. Yet.” She ducks her head, a shy smile touching her lips. “I’m crazy about him, though, Livie. If I see him with another girl, I’ll probably go apeshit and kill them both.”

I frown, trying to picture Grant with someone else. I can’t, what with the way he trails Reagan like a lovesick puppy. And then I wonder if Connor is seeing other girls because we haven’t put a label on anything. What if he is? Does “slow and easy” mean “open to date”? If I saw him with another girl, would I also go apeshit? The girls introducing themselves at Tiger Inn made me realize that Connor could probably have his pick of women, but it didn’t really bother me. An image of Ashton kissing Dana flashes through my head and my stomach instantly falls. I know it’s not right but I recognize that now for what is was, aside from shock. Jealousy. It bothered me. As did hearing that girl at the bar talk about him. And then touching his arm after.

Reagan’s sigh pulls me out of my head and back into our conversation. “Whatever it is, we have to keep it under wraps until Grant is done with school.”

My responding frown tells her I don’t understand why.

“My dad! Aren’t you listening? Oh, Livie.” She gives an exasperated look. “Sometimes I wonder where your head is . . . My dad isn’t crazy about him.”

“Why?”

“He thinks Grant doesn’t take life seriously. Grant’s afraid he’ll kick him off the team if he finds out.”

“But . . . he’s going to Princeton. How much more serious can he get?” I say with a disbelieving snort.

“Serious enough not to do it in the library with the Coach’s daughter,” she mutters, picking up her speed.

Fair enough.

The rain has started up again. It’s a light, cool drizzle and it doesn’t take long to soak through my navy shirt. But I don’t mind it at all. The route Reagan has chosen is a tranquil street through a Pleasantvillesque neighborhood of pretty houses and manicured lawns and large trees, just starting to change colors. It feels good to be away from campus. I feel as though a weight has fallen off my shoulders. Maybe I’m spending too much time there, letting it become a bubble. I let the quiet environment envelop me as I enjoy my escape, focusing on my breathing, surprised that I’m keeping up with Reagan as well as I am.