“You’re dating the Landry boy, right?” I nod my head at him, and he beams. “High school sweethearts—my wife and I dated in high school, too. You two make such a sweet couple.”

I lower my eyes in what I’m sure Mr. Bernard mistakes as bashfulness. The truth is, Lucas’s and my relationship has evolved into something very different lately. We’re partners in crime—co-conspirators. The moment I made Lucas that dreadful promise, the dynamic of our relationship shifted. I’m the inventor of excuses, the creator of distractions, and the author of endless lies.

“I just saw him grab a plate of food before you walked into the kitchen, Audrey. I’m sure he’s eating upstairs.”

“He’s been chatting on the phone with another student all afternoon, Mr. Gene. They are trying to work through a new assignment they just received.”

“I had it all wrong, Grams. Lucas is just really stressed, that’s all. I jumped to conclusions—everything is fine.”

Yes, I’ve become adept at evading questions, redirecting suspicions, and swallowing the unrelenting guilt that threatens to choke me every day. My deceit fools our families, but it also chips away at our love, bit by bit. In his eyes, where I used to see love and affection, I only see fear and darkness. His touch used to remind me of home. Now, I feel uncertainty and a frenetic current of electricity—a live wire, unpredictable and chaotic. No, we are no longer the sweet couple I remember.

“I bet he’s wowing his professors at Northern U. That boy is destined for great things.”

“Yes, sir, he sure is,” I say as my cheeks ache with effort, my smile feeling like an actual chore.

The truth is, I can’t remember the last time Lucas attended class or worked on anything that looks remotely like coursework. There are no independent assignments—his email is full of correspondence from his professors wondering why he’s missing in action. I’m honestly shocked administration hasn’t called the Landry house and demanded an explanation. They have invested a great deal of money into Lucas. He is by far the smartest person I’ve ever met, but now his thoughts, and his notebooks, are riddled with paranoia and delusions.

“Are you going to live on campus? Honestly, it’s the best way to experience campus life.”

“I’ll stay at home with Grams for now. I want to be there for her,” I say.

“How’s your grandmother doing? I hear she’s been home for a while now.”

“She’s amazing,” I say, with the first genuine spark of excitement. “She’s improving every day, getting her independence back a little at a time. She’s done everything short of kicking me out, but I’m not ready to leave her just yet. She’s given up so much to raise me. I want to do this for her … I need to.”

My refusal to move to Providence in the fall is a constant bone of contention between Grams and me. After coming so close to losing her, I’m not ready to let go. She doesn’t have to understand it, but it’s the way I feel. She’s the only family I have left.

Even if Grams never had the stroke, I still don’t think I could leave Lucas. He’s in no shape to move out of his house right now. His secret would be found out for sure if he moved into the dorms. And even though his family doesn’t know about his problems, I get a small amount of comfort knowing they are in the house with him. I think their presence keeps him from completely unraveling. He has to keep it together if he wants to continue to fool them.

“I think that’s very admirable of you, Celia. You’ve taken on a great deal of responsibility as of late, and I have to admit, it’s worries me sometimes. Always remember there is no shame in asking for help, okay?” Mr. Bernard lays his hand on top of mine and squeezes gently. “Whether you’re a student at this school or not, you can always come to me if you need anything. You’re not alone.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bernard. I’ll remember that,” I say, standing up and placing my purse strap on my shoulder.

I appreciate his kind words more than he will ever know. I’ve never felt so alone in all of my life, and I want nothing more than to confide in him. His offer is a life raft in a black, stormy ocean.

If only I could reach for it.

I walk quickly to the door, willing myself to keep quiet and get the hell out of there. “I’ll get the speech to you by the end of the week, I promise,” I say over my shoulder as I dart from the office.

I don’t even hear his response. I drop my head and keep walking toward the parking lot. I unlock the door and hop into Grams’s old Buick, eager to get home and check on things. These days, I never know which Lucas I’m going to get. He’s become temperamental.

I don’t particularly care for driving. I never have. I’ve always happily hitched a ride with Audrey or Lucas, but I’ve recently started driving to and from school. Creating a bit of distance between Audrey and me is difficult, but I hate lying to her. So instead of lying, I opt for avoidance. Needless to say, she’s not taking it well.

“I’m leaving in three months, and my best friend doesn’t even care!”

I’m so happy for Audrey, really I am. She’s been dreaming of attending Ole Miss for as long as I can remember. But part of me thinks she’s deserting me—like she’s leaving me behind to deal with this mess while she moves on with her life. I know it’s ridiculous, completely ludicrous to blame her when she’s completely in the dark, but I wish someone would explain that to my heart. Because my heart is so angry.

I pull into the driveway, no recollection of the turns and stops I made to get here, and hurry up the front steps. For the last few weeks, Grams’s nurse’s aide leaves at noon, a testament to how well she’s been doing. Before heading over to see Lucas, I toss my bags in the corner and walk to the back of the house to check on Grams.

“Grams, I hope you didn’t give Miss Freda too much trouble this morning. I know how you like to turn up the soaps to tune her out,” I call out as I pull out my phone to shoot Lucas a text.

She doesn’t answer me, and I can picture her rolling her eyes and cursing under her breath.

“That damn woman never hushes her blessed mouth.”

“Grams?” I call out again when she doesn’t answer.

I grab the remote off the recliner and tap the power button to silence the infomercial echoing through the house. I toss the remote on the coffee table and walk down the hall toward Grams’s bedroom.

The next few seconds come to me in wicked bursts. Indelible flash frames of heartache and anguish.

Flash.

A slipper-covered foot sticking out of the bathroom into the hallway, toes facing down.

Flash.

The incessant, grating sound of a phone left off the hook, the call never made.

Flash.

A smear of blood on the corner of the cracked Formica counter.

Flash.

Grams, face slack, arms twisted in an unnatural angle, and blood trickling from her temple, in a heap on the bathroom floor.

Then everything goes dark…

“Sitting, Waiting, Wishing” by Jack Johnson

Present Day

I PACE IN front of The Courtyard, wringing my hands and plotting Alex’s death in the most creative ways I can think. Celia’s been here for over an hour, and I’m crawling out of my skin.

Speed dating. Are you fucking kidding me?

I replay Celia’s explanation in my head, but it doesn’t help to calm my nerves.

“Why does she need you to go with her? Alex is a big girl. She needs to put on her big girl panties.”