Sydney is sitting at our favorite campus cafeteria, waiting for me, and I wave as I make my way toward her, grinning at her.

She lifts her hand in greeting, but her smile is faint.

I frown as I plunk my tray on the table and slide into the chair beside her. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” But she won’t look at me and keeps stirring at her coffee.

“You’re not very convincing. What’s wrong?” It’s hard to bring myself down from the high I’ve been riding for the past couple of weeks, ever since Jarett started coming over, ever since he opened up to me and made me so hopeful for the future. “Wait a minute… Does it have to do with your missing boy? Kash?”

“It does.” The fact doesn’t escape me that she doesn’t deny he’s her boy this time. “I searched for him. You know I did. I asked everyone I could think of, went to every bar and every rave party and…” She lets the spoon drop inside her mug and wipes her hands on her pants. “And nothing. He could be in trouble, he could be dead—”

She claps a hand over her mouth.

“Oh God, Syd…” Reaching over awkwardly, I put my arms around her and hug her to me. “You will find him. I have a feeling that you will.” Unless that’s my good mood talking. “What do the other boys say?”

She shakes her head against my shoulder. “They’ve been looking, too. But we won’t give up.” She pulls back. “We can’t.”

Of course not, I think, looking into her bright eyes. Because she loves this Kash. And she also loves the other two.

How will their story end? I want my best friend happy, but this all seems so complicated. Almost impossible.

Then again, that’s how being with Jarett seems, too, and I’m not giving up on him. Why should she be any different?

* * *

It’s during history class that I get a phone call from Matt. Worried something has happened to Octavia or the baby, I grab my phone and run out of the classroom.

“Hey. Is everything okay?” I ask the moment I’m outside. “Matt!”

“You tell me, is it?”

I frown. “What do you mean? Are Tati and Bean all right?”

“They’re fine. But your boyfriend up and left work some time ago without telling anyone. Know anything about that?”

“What? You serious?” Jarett wouldn’t do that. He respects Matt and Kaden. He’s happy working there. “When?”

“Probably an hour, hour and a half ago. Went in to ask him something and he wasn’t there, or anywhere in the garage. He hasn’t talked to you?”

“No.” And now I’m worried. “I’ll call him.”

“You do that. I tried his phone, but he won’t answer.”

Crap. “On it. Talk to you later.”

My fingers tremble as I search for Jarett’s number. He was acting weird early this morning when I woke up to find him staring at the ceiling. What could have kept him up?

The call connects, and it rings and rings.

No reply.

Where could he be? He doesn’t have his apartment anymore. He could be with his gang, doing something bad, but he’d have let Matt know if he had to go.

Right?

There’s one more place he might be, and my gut tells me I may find him there.

Grabbing my stuff from the classroom, pulling on my red jacket, I Uber over to the nursing home.

* * *

“They have just taken her away,” a kind nurse tells me when I ask for the room of Becky Lowe. “I’m sorry.”

“Taken her where?”

“Oh my God, you don’t know? Are you family?”

“No, I…” I grip the edge of the reception desk. “I’m a family friend. What happened?”

“I’m sorry. Mrs. Lowe passed away this morning.”

Passed away.

Oh no. “Is Jarett here?”

“Her son? He was with her.” She comes out from behind the desk to look down the hallway. “I didn’t see him go. He may be gathering her things in her room? It’s the third one down the hall.”

Not wasting another second, nodding in thanks, I hurry over to the room and open the door.

He’s there, sitting in a padded chair in front of the TV. A program is playing on mute. His hands are gripping the armrests, his head is bowed. I don’t think he’s watching the program, but whatever is playing in his mind’s eye.

I walk over to him, kneel in front of him, and take his hands. “Jarett.”

His head lifts slightly, his gaze unfocused. He looks from our hands to my face. His lips form my name.

“I’m here. I heard about your mom. I’m so sorry.”

He nods and grunts. He doesn’t seem be able to talk. His hands are cold in mine. I rub them, trying to warm them up.

“I tried to call you, but you wouldn’t answer,” I say. “Matt tried as well. We were worried.”

His breathing is shallow, quick, fast beats, like he’s been running. His face is pale. His eyes are dry.

“Did you call Sebastian? Is he coming over?”

He shakes his head slowly. Licks his lips. “He won’t answer the phone,” he rasps.

“We’ll try him again later. Hey, come on. Let’s go. Nothing more you can do here. Your mom’s in a better place now. With the angels.”

He sort of laughs, then chokes and coughs. “There are no angels.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You’re the only fucking angel I know,” he says, and hauls me into his arms, buries his face in my neck and holds on tightly.

* * *

My mom moves around the kitchen, her crutch thumping on the floor with every step. She has refused to stay seated. Her only compromise is allowing Merc or Jarett to carry her upstairs at night so she won’t strain her ankle too much.

“This should warm you right up,” she says, placing two mugs of hot tea and a plate of homemade cookies on the table.

“You shouldn’t be on that leg, Maggie,” Jarett tells her. He’s sitting there, pale and still, hair in his eyes.

“I want to mother you,” my mom says. She loves mothering people, and that’s the truth, but even more Jarett, especially when he’s looking lost and sad like this.

“I don’t need mothering,” he says faintly.

“Nonsense. Everyone does.” Mom glances at me helplessly, but I don’t know what to do, either. “I’ll leave you kids alone now, Paul’s coming to pick me up. But give me a hug first.”

She slings one arm around his shoulders, and he puts an arm around her waist, his face blank.

That blankness scares me. I need to chase it away, make him acknowledge what he feels. Accept some comfort.

“If you need anything,” Mom says, “call me. And Gigi, get some tea and cookies into this young man. He needs to eat.”

Jarett doesn’t even blink.

Mom hobbles out, and the doorbell rings a minute later. I hear the happiness in her voice, Paul’s deeper voice. Then they’re gone.

I drag my chair closer to Jarett and put my arms around him. “Tell me about her.”

“What?” he whispers. His deep voice still has that faint quality about it, as if he hasn’t been able to catch his breath all day.

“About your mom. Tell me about her.”

His body is stiff like a board where I’m holding him, his muscles strung tight with tension. He stares at me like he doesn’t understand my language.

Then he wraps an arm around me and hauls me up and onto his lap. I hug him, and he props his chin on my shoulder. “She was great. Tried to make me fit in, but once a misfit, always a misfit, you know? She tried to get me to quit smoking, to avoid fighting. Told me to call her Mom, but I never did.”

“She sounds great,” I say, muffled by his shoulder. “A good mom.”

“She was. I dreamed of her this morning. She told me… she said to remember.”

“Remember what?”

“Everything,” he whispers. “Remember everything, so I could turn my life around. That was her last gift to me.”

* * *

“I have to go,” he says, shrugging on his jacket. “I have to, Gigi.”

It’s late at night, and we’ve spent hours curled together on the sofa, watching mindless TV. His hands are warm now, his face not so pale. He looks much better.

And determined to go look for Sebastian at the gang’s meeting place.

“Please, don’t.” I want to hang on to him, stop him. “I have a bad feeling. Call him again. He has to answer, sooner or later.”

“The funeral is tomorrow.”

Crap. “Family is not only the one given to you, Jarett. I can be your family. My family can be your family. Staying in that gang will get you killed. I don’t want you to die. That’s what your family should want for you: to live.”

“Listen to me.” He looks serious as he takes my hands in his. “I’m leaving the gang. And I’ll find a way to get Seb out, too. But right now, I have to find him. Like you found me. He needs to know about his mom from me.”

That makes sense. And hope fills me like warm air, lifting me up, because this is the first time he has talked about the future. “Okay. Go find him. Then come back to me.”

“I will, I promise. Sooner or later, I’m always coming back to you, Gigi.”

There’s music playing in my head, a sweet melody. I swear I can hear it. It comes from inside my head, inside my heart. I look at his bowed head, his lashes throwing long shadows on his cheeks, and I love him more than ever.