Nora and I went to visit Veronica in the hospital the next day after school. Nora brought her homework, of course, and I brought her a milkshake from Jimmy’s. Veronica liked my present better. We hung around for a while, waiting with Veronica for the release paperwork to go through so she could get the hell out of there.

Nora had to leave soon after for a conference call with her caseworker. Stephanie, who works once or twice a week as a nurse at the hospital, was meeting her in the lobby after her shift to take her home. Under the pretense of going to the cafeteria to get food, I walked Nora down. She kissed me when we got in the elevator and slipped her hand inside my pants. It was a ballsy move—in more ways than one—and not one I’d put an end to.

Yet it’s not Nora. She’s not a risk taker. The rebel in her is sexy as hell, making me want to push the emergency stop on the elevator and fuck her against the wall.

Nora is light.

I am dark.

Am I a fool for thinking she can brighten my life without me darkening hers?

A funny feeling started growing inside of me on the way home from the hospital, and now that I’m sitting in the house, quiet and alone, it’s only getting stronger.

We’re too far in to stop now. Even if I could, I don’t want to. I love her even if I shouldn’t, and nothing will change that.

Feeling restless, I shove all my dirty laundry into a pile to take downstairs. I even strip my bed, balling up the sheets and tossing them into my laundry basket. I carry it all into the laundry room and open the washer. It’s full of clean clothes that look to be a mixture of Mom’s and Veronica’s. The last time I put a load of clean into the dryer—trying to be helpful of course—I shrunk several sweaters. I don’t do anyone else’s laundry but mine now.

The laundry room is right off the kitchen, and I leave my basket in the doorway. There’s a good chance I’ll forget about it, but I make a mental note to do it later. I’m running out of clean clothes, and those sheets needed to be washed last week.

I raid the fridge right as Dad comes in with pizza. He asks me to set the table; Mom and Veronica should be home any minute. Ten minutes later, they’re still not home and Dad and I have already devoured half a pizza. We talk sports, taking bets on who’s going to win the Super Bowl.

He gets a beer from the fridge and comes back to the table. “This is nice.” He cracks open the can. “We don’t talk much anymore. What do you say we hit the range this weekend?”

I haven’t been to the shooting range since Jason died. I’m not scared of guns. On their own, they don’t trigger me. The feel of a gun in my hand was familiar before that day. I can point, aim, and shoot with no problem. I can still hit the target with deadly accuracy. The smell of gunpowder doesn’t always bother me. The sound of the shots are muffled by earplugs. Sometimes, I can handle it.

And sometimes I can’t. The lack of control is the most frustrating part and is the reason I shut down.

Dad and I used to shoot targets two or three times a month if not more. It was a cherished pastime. We’d be together without the pressure of talking, and I know he enjoyed being able to teach me something. I generally enjoyed it too. It was fun, it was done in sport, and I believed it was important to know how to properly handle a gun in case the day came where I needed to know.

And it did.

“Yeah,” I say and look up at Dad. “I’d like that.”

A smile spreads over his face, a big genuine one I haven’t seen in a while. He pats my shoulder and takes a sip of beer. “I like this. Things are getting back to where they should be. You’re headed in the right direction.”

It’s all because of Nora. I grab another slice of pizza. “They are. Finally.”

The back door opens and Mom and Veronica come in, tracking snow along with them. Veronica throws a mini fit we started eating without her and doesn’t stop until Dad shows her we didn’t touch her vegetable pizza. She’s always dramatic and it’s amplified when she’s sick. I don’t discredit her feeling like shit, but she milks it for everything she can get. She and Mom join us at the table for pizza, and then Mom gets up to do laundry.

“I see you almost started your laundry.” Mom steps over my basket of dirty sheets and clothes with her arms full of towels from the dryer.

“Almost. I didn’t want to shrink your shirts again.”

“And that’s almost a valid excuse.” Mom laughs and puts the towels on the kitchen counter. “Fold these for me and I’ll do your laundry. It drives me crazy how you don’t separate the colors anyway.”

“If it’s all in cold, it doesn’t matter though, right?”

Dad leans forward. “Right. But don’t tell your mother I wash everything together on days when I do laundry.”

“I won’t tell,” I whisper back just as loud and get up to start folding towels. Veronica’s sitting at the table with her feet up on an empty chair. She’s wearing pajamas and a robe and still looks a bit pale. She catches my eye and smiles. There’s nothing extraordinary about tonight. We’re eating pizza and doing laundry.

But that dynamic is back, one we all dearly missed.

Mom reaches into my laundry basket and pulls out my sheets. She shakes them to free them from the clothes stuck in the elastic of the fitted sheet. Socks, boxers, and a T-shirt come out.

So does Nora’s bra. The one she couldn’t find and left behind. The one I forgot about.

The blood drains from my face. There’s no way around it. No saying Veronica’s clothes got mixed up in my laundry. She’s flat-chested and Nora’s a full C-cup. At first, I don’t think Mom notices. Or she does and tries to act like she didn’t see it.

But Dad doesn’t miss anything.

“What is that?” He stares at the bra like it’s a bomb, seconds from detonating.

“It’s mine.” Veronica flicks her eyes to me. “Must have gotten mixed up.”

“Really?” Dad’s voice booms through the kitchen. He grabs the bra, holding it up. “In what world would this fit you?”

“You don’t have to be such an ass, Dad.” Veronica turns her head down. She knows I’m in deep shit.

Dad throws the bra on top of the towels I’m folding. “You gonna take this back to her? I’m sure she’s missing it.”

My throat is thick. I reach for the bra, visions of Nora’s full breasts flashing in my mind. I’d give anything to be preoccupied with them right now. “Who?”

“Don’t play stupid with me!” Dad brings his fist down on the counter, eyes narrowing. “You know, I thought you two were up to something when I came home yesterday, but I told myself, no, my son wouldn’t be so stupid. Are you sleeping with her?”

Lying would do me no good. Nora’s bra just fell out of my wadded-up sheets.

“Yes.”

Dad shakes his head. “Apparently you are that stupid. How long has this been going on?”

“A couple of months.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Dad’s hand flies to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“James,” Mom says, face white. “Calm down.”

“Calm down? You really think I can calm down? You know what this means!”

“Let’s talk about it,” Mom urges. “Maybe it’s not as bad as it seems.”

Dad shakes his head, turning back to me. “How could you have been so stupid?”

“Jack’s not stupid!” Veronica stands, glaring at our father. “I don’t see what the big deal is. He’s been happy since he’s been with Nora!”

Dad whirls around. “You knew and didn’t say anything?”

“Why would I? It’s not like Jack’s some innocent virgin. He’s had girlfriends before.”

“This is different,” Dad bellows.

Veronica throws up her hands. “You mean because he actually has a good girlfriend this time who’s not a skanky-ass hoe? No offense, Jack.”

I shrug, not offended at all. The girls I dated in the past fit her description fairly well. “None taken.”

“This isn’t funny.” Dad gives her a death-stare before rounding on me. “Nora is a minor. You’re not. The legal age of consent in California is eighteen. What you two have been doing is against the law.”

“Oh, come on, Dad! She’s seventeen. She knows what she’s doing and it’s not like I’m the only one who wants it.”

“That doesn’t matter! Don’t you get it? She. Is. A. Minor,” he says each word pointedly. “You are eighteen. Dammit, Jack! You got yourself in deep shit. You need to break up with her.”

“No,” I spit, the word hurtling through me. “You can’t make me do that.”

“Yes, I can. Call her right now and tell her it’s over. You’re not allowed to see her anymore.”

“Fuck you.”

A vein on Dad’s neck throbs. He comes over, finger in my face. “You better watch yourself, mister. You’re still under my roof, and you have to follow my rules. Nora is a minor. Sex with a minor is a criminal offense.”

“James,” Mom interjects, jaw set. She points to the table. “Sit. Right now. Both of you.”

Dad huffs but listens and goes to the table. He crosses his arms, nostrils flaring.

“Jackie,” Mom starts, tone soft. “I know you and Nora care about each other, but you have to understand the consequences of having a sexual relationship with someone who the law considers a minor when you’re not. I like Nora.” She motions to Dad. “We like Nora. She’s a bright girl who’s been a rather good influence on you—academically. But honey, you can’t keep doing this.”

“Dammit, Laura, stop sugar-coating it. Nora’s not just the girl next door. She’s the foster kid next door, and if her caseworker found out about the two of you, she might be required to report it and file a report. Do you want to be labeled a sex offender the rest of your life? People see that label and assume the worst. Good luck getting a job after that.”

“I’m not breaking up with Nora,” I say defiantly. “Consider this my vow of fucking chastity until her birthday then. It’s not illegal to be her friend.”

“You’re going to stop touching your girlfriend you’ve been having sex with? I was eighteen once and know how your brain works. There is no way the two of you can just be friends.”

I stand so fast the chair scoots and falls behind me. “You don’t know how my brain works. You have no fucking clue what it’s like to wake up from a nightmare, but it doesn’t stop!”

“And Nora does?”

“Yes! She gets me, and I love her. I’m not breaking up with her.”

“You’re just a kid!” Dad spits. “What do you know about love?”

“You just got through telling me I’m not a kid and that’s the problem? Convenient how that works, isn’t it?”

“You are a kid. My kid. And you have to do as I say. Break things off with Nora now.”

“No.”

“Break up with her or get out of the house.”

“Fine,” I say. “I’ll get my own apartment and then I’ll be able to fuck her anytime I want.”

Dad springs to her feet. “Watch your mouth!”

“Boys!” Mom yells. “Stop! Both of you, stop it right now and sit back down. No more swearing and no more threats. Veronica, honey, please go upstairs.”

Veronica nods and scrambles away, hiding behind the wall in the living room to keep listening.

“You are not kicking my son out of my house,” Mom barks, rounding on Dad. “And Jack, you are not to be alone with Nora. There’s no reason to break up with—”

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Laura.” Dad throws his hands up. “All it will take is one slip for them to get caught. Stop making me out to be the bad guy. I’m trying to protect him.”

“I don’t need you to protect me.” My pulse hammers in my head and my stomach twists. I’m so fucking pissed.

“You need someone to make decisions for you,” Dad counters. The phone rings, and Mom and Dad both ignore it.

“We can reach an agreement,” Mom tries. “Jack was right in saying it’s not illegal to be her friend. No one can fault him for being her friend.”

“You trust him to keep it in his pants around that girl?”

“Dad,” I scoff. The phone rings again. “Give me some fucking credit.”

“What did we say about swearing?” Mom turns to me. “Stop it. I’m trying to help you.”

“And I’m not?” Dad argues. “Typical, Laura. Leave the difficult decisions to me as usual.”

“That’s not true, James, and you know it!”

“Guys.” Veronica’s voice comes from the living room.

“It is true,” Dad goes on. “Just look at this past year. Who’s the one who—”

“Guys!” Veronica screams, and everyone stops and turns to her. The phone is in her hand and she looks like she’s seen a ghost.

“What?” Dad snaps.

Veronica twists the phone in her hands. “Stephanie called.”

Oh, shit.

“See!” Dad angrily motions to me. “I warned you. And you didn’t listen!”

“No,” Veronica says, voice somber. “She didn’t bring that up at all.” Her eyes meet mine and I know it’s much worse. “Nora’s grandma had another stroke. She’s dying.”