I pull myself up and brush the sand off my jeans before turning and facing my parents. “Come on,” I say. “Let’s take a walk.”

My mother shakes her head. “Oh, no,” she says. “I don’t want to interrupt your evening.” Too late for that. Maybe if you didn’t want to interrupt, you shouldn’t have, oh, I don’t know, fucking interrupted it? “I just wanted to make sure—”

“You wanted to make sure I was keeping out of trouble,” I interrupt. “Well, guess what, Mom? I am.”

“I think what your mother meant, son, was—”

“Ugh, save it, Dad,” I snap. “She wanted to make sure I wasn’t doing anything to embarrass you two. And I’m not. My cup back there? It’s filled with cola. I haven’t had a drink or anything else since I got out. And I got a job, so I don’t need you checking on me anymore, got it?”

“Have you been calling your parole officer?” Mom asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

Fuck. This is why I wanted to take a walk. Now people are turning around where they stand, sneaking looks at us. Fucking fantastic. “Yes,” I grind out through gritted teeth. And I have. Not that it’s been easy without a phone. I’ve had to drive out to the one pay phone in town, which is—surprise, surprise—just outside the diner, where I’m already a freaking pariah.

“Okay,” she says, and for an instant, her gaze drops and I think her shoulders do, too. “Good.”

Dad’s hand comes to rest on her shoulder. “Come on, Nadine,” he says. “I think we should get back.”

Mom nods without looking at me, and together, they turn and start walking away.

Something burns in my chest, and I can’t tell if it’s rage or fucking disappointment, but either way, I can’t stop myself from yelling out to them as soon as they’re almost back to the crowd.

“By the way,” I call out, “I found Bruiser. No fucking thanks to the two of you.” Mom stutters to a stop, and turns around to look at me. I raise my arm and point at the blanket where Bruiser is rolling around on his back next to Autumn, who is looking back and forth between my parents and me with eyes as big as dinner plates. Shit. She’s probably wondering what the hell is going on, just what kind of guy is hanging out with her best friend.

Fuck.

I let my arm drop and watch as Mom just kind of nods sadly and turns away. I don’t even wait for them to disappear into the crowd before I groan and turn back to Star, raking my hands through my hair.

She’s got her plastic cup between both her palms, her thumbs worrying at the top lip of it as she looks up at me. “So . . . I’m guessing that was your parents,” she says.

I sigh and walk back over to her. Sinking down onto the sand next to her, I nod. “Yeah.”

She kind of raises her eyebrows at me, and the edge of her mouth kind of tugs to one side, like she’s trying to smother a smile. “Nice people,” she says, and an instant later she loses control and the smirk appears. A laugh forces its way out of my throat and I bump my shoulder against hers.

“Yeah,” I say, leaning back against the rock and letting the tension bleed from my body. “They’re fucking great.” I look over at her through the corner of my eye. She’s twirling the cup back and forth, pressed between her palms, and is staring down at the tiny whirlpool she’s created in her wine.

“I guess parents aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, huh?”

I shift so I can reach into my pocket for my pack of smokes. “Yeah,” I say. “No kidding.” The motion makes the side of my body press into the side of Star’s, and, much to my surprise, she presses back. The heat of her body seeps into me, warms me like hot coffee on a cold winter’s day. I like it more than I should.

But I don’t pull away. Instead I stay half-pressed against her as I light my smoke and take a long drag. “Hey,” she says, bumping her bent knee against mine. Smiling, she jerks her chin toward the night sky stretched out before us.

“Fireworks.”

And together we lean back against the rock and watch as the fireworks begin, and a million colored explosions dance across the dark sky, their thundering sound just barely covering up the thudding in my chest as Star settles down into the sand and leans farther into me. The heat from her skin seeps into mine, and I can’t help but grin.

It’s the best night I’ve had in a long, long time.

Star

Roth and Autumn drop us back at the house afterward. In the distance, there are still fireworks going off, but I’m wiped and even though they’re heading back to Climbfield, Ash and I still have a long way to go before we’re finished.

I hop out of Roth’s truck, stumbling a little as my feet slap against the pavement. I’m a little tipsier than I thought. I feel warm all over.

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive back?” I ask Roth. I can just barely make out his nod in the darkness.

“I’m fine,” he says. “I only had one beer, and that was hours ago. Besides, the B&B is just down the road.”

“And we have to get on the road first thing in the morning,” Autumn adds, walking around the side of the truck to reclaim the shotgun seat. She reaches out and wraps me up in a big hug that smells like apples, just as she always does. We stumble a little under each other’s weight. “Gonna miss you, Starlight,” she murmurs into my hair, and I nod, my throat tightening. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed her until she’d shown up on my doorstep, her and Roth both. I squeeze her back. As hard as I can. And she does the same to me.

“I’m gonna miss you, too,” I say.

“Come on, Autumn,” Roth calls from inside the cab of the truck. “We need to get going.”

“You sure?” Ash says from behind me. I turn and look at him. He’s shifting from foot to foot, his hands in his pockets. “I mean, you could stick around for a bit, if you wanted.” He drags his eyes from the ground in front of him, and suddenly those blue eyes are all that I can see. That and the little smile tugging at his lips.

My stomach flutters.

Face burning, I dig my key chain out of my purse and pass it over to him. He takes it, and a look of relief passes over his face as he finally has something to do with his hands.

“Sadly, we’ve been informed by our gracious hostess that the bed-and-breakfast’s full service includes a curfew,” Roth says, and despite his proper words, his eyes roll to the ceiling of the cab. I scoff.

“Sounds like someone I know,” I tease, remembering all the grief he gave Autumn and I as an RA. I raise an eyebrow at Roth through the open passenger-side window. “I don’t know where you think you’re going—” I step back and open my arms wide “—but I’m not letting you leave here without giving me a hug.”

He grumbles as he gets down from the cab, but I can hear the affection in his voice. I’ve seen the distance he puts between himself and other people, always keeping them away. But somehow, by some miracle, Autumn and I managed to see through all his posturing and grumpy looks and get close to him.

I can count on one hand the number of people I’ve let get close in my life. I’m not letting him go now. He trudges over and wraps me up in a big hug that lifts me bodily off the ground. I laugh as my feet dangle, from the ridiculousness or the drinks I’ve consumed, I don’t know which. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I burrow into his shoulder and breathe his warm, almost spicy scent in. I’m going to miss him. I’m going to miss them both. But even with that knowledge hanging over my head, I’m happy.

“He’d better treat you right,” Roth whispers, his voice low enough that only I can hear him. I rub my face into his shoulder and squeeze him even tighter.

“It’s not like that,” I tell him, even though I want it to be. Sometimes. When I let my guard down and allow that traitorous part of me to hope.