Tray was still on the dock, thank God, when I got to him. He was sitting behind the steering wheel, grinning at whatever Grant had just said.

I was furious and everyone was a target right now.

Seeing me, one of the guys cleared his throat and nodded in my direction.

Tray glanced behind him, and the laughter halted.

He stood up. “Hey—” he trailed off, his eyes widening at the barely controlled rage written across my face.

“I need your keys.” I stuck my hand out, knowing he was going to ask, knowing he saw what was inside of me, but not caring.

“What?”

“I need your keys. Right now.” Fucking duh.

“What’s going on?” he asked cautiously, reaching for his back pocket.

“Just give me your keys,” I repeated. I stamped all of my emotions down so I wouldn’t blow up—this was not the time or place.

He held them up slowly. “What’s going on?” he asked, studying me intently.

I snatched them up.

“What about our rule?” Tray demanded. He kept a hold of the keys. I tried to yank them away, but he held on to them tightly.

“You said later. With your stuff…you said later,” I reminded him, unyielding. “I need that now,” I said tightly, wrenching the keys out of his grasp. I immediately turned to leave, walking back down the dock.

“Taryn,” he called after me, but I ignored him. I circled around their table. I could hear Mandy’s laugh, but I didn’t dare look at her as I passed.

I quickly crossed to where Tray had parked and got inside. Staring the engine, I peeled out of there. It didn’t take long to get to my house. I was braking to a halt moments later outside my house.

I left the keys dangling in the car and ran inside.

Realizing I left my keys at Sers, I ran around to the first floor bathroom window and propped it open. The only sound I could hear was the pounding of my heart.

I hauled my body up and crawled inside.

When my feet touched the floor, I choked back a sob. I stumbled through the doorway and up the stairs. I ran, sprinted to Mandy’s room.

In the doorway, her perfect doorway, I froze in place. My horrified gaze took everything in. Everything was labeled and put in its perfect place. Everything.

Her clothes were color-coordinated. Separated from denim for the summer and denim for the winter. Her desk was pristine, actually sparkling when the sunlight caught on it. And her pictures were perfectly aligned.

Then I hauled off and looked through everything. Everything.

I couldn’t hear anything. If anyone had walked or rang the doorbell—nothing. My heart was pounding in my eardrums, deafening me. I felt like there was fucking elephant was standing on my chest as I frantically tore into her desk, looking through papers, files. Anything and everything.

I looked in her jewelry box. Her nightstand, a little box that was on there. The dresser drawers. Underneath her bed. The window frame. I even lifted up her curtain rod and looked inside.

I checked the door, behind the door, just on top of its frame. I checked the venting shafts. Even behind a framed picture that hung on her wall. Behind her posters.

Nothing.

Fucking nothing.

An hour later, still nothing.

I spied her Kleenex box. And I tore it open and in the corner, and found one small bag of Vitamin R.

Fucking uppers.

But she owed five grand—there was no way that this little bag equaled five grand.

I flipped the bed mattress up and saw one of the corners was slightly ripped. Jamming my fingers inside it, I found another little bag.

Then I looked around again, I walked into her bathroom that was connected to her bedroom.

I stood on the toilet and ran my hands along the top of the wall cabinets, the highest to the ceiling, and found a box full of Vitamin R. A whole fucking box stuffed with baggies, all filled with pills. And one by one, I dumped them into the toilet.

It took me an hour. A whole fucking hour.

I told myself to breathe. In and out. Just breathe. But the energy was wrenched from me. I felt like I’d hurdled off the side of a cliff.

When I was done, I stumbled to my bedroom and curled on my bed. My arms wrapped around my knees, curled in the fetal position.

That was how Tray found me. I didn’t know how long I laid there like that. Frozen.

“Hey,” he said softly, sitting next to me on the bed. I flinched when he tentatively touched me.

“How’d you get here?” I asked. I didn’t know what else to say.

“Carter showed up. I had him drop me off here.”

“Was Mandy there?”

“Yeah…why?” He frowned, his hand resting on mine.

“Because—”

“Because why?”

“Her drug dealer came up to me and wanted me to pass a message to her for him,” I bit out, starting to seethe inside again.

“What?” Tray froze, the small circle his thumb had been moving in stopped. “What did you say?”

“Mark Jenkins. That’s his name,” I bit out bitterly.

I realized that Tray still hadn’t said anything.

I scrambled to a sitting position. “Do you know him?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly, not looking at me.

“Do you know who he works for?”

“Yeah.”

“Who?”

“No, Taryn. You’re not getting involved in it. I’ll handle it.”

“Fuck that.” I got up, standing in front of him. “She’s my sister. I do not want my sister on drugs.”

“How much did she have?”

“Enough to be dealing ‘em herself,” I said swiftly. “It took me an hour just to flush ‘em all.”

“What was she on?”

“An upper.”

“Which one?”

“Vitamin R. Methyl—whatever the fuck it is. Ritalin shit,” I snapped, raking both my hands through my hair.

“Okay.” He stood up and moved to leave.

I grabbed his hand. “Oh no. You’re not doing this without me.”

“I don’t want you involved.” Tray tried to shrug me off.

“No!”

“Taryn,” he argued, walking down the stairs.

“No!” I shouted, jumping past him to block his way. “I hate drugs. You have no idea how much I hate those things. I really…really…detest them.”

“I know!” he cried out. “How do you think I feel?”

“Oh,” I yelled back, “like steroids are any different!”

Tray grew still and his body went rigid at that. I saw his jaw clench and spasm.

“You and I both know it—they’re the same thing,” I pressed, uncaring that I was crossing a line.

“They don’t have the same effects.”

“Bullshit,” I swore.

“They’re not the same.”

“Yes, they are, Tray. And you tap that market…you do it because a part of you likes to get away with it. You do it because it keeps you connected to that life,” I goaded, unheeding the warning that flashed in his eyes.

“That’s fucking bullshit,” he said slowly, dangerously.

“Then prove me wrong and stop selling them.”

“Like you’re any better,” he shot back.

“I’m trying to stop,” I yelled. “You’re not.”

“Well, I’m stopping this Jenkins piece of shit.”

“It won’t help, not in the long run,” I reasoned.

“You don’t understand it, Taryn. You have no clue,” Tray cried out. “If Rawley doesn’t have something going on, then it’ll get flooded by something else. It’ll be designated as ‘open’ and that means we’ll have so much fucking drugs here, it’s not going to matter. So yeah, I keep the steroid business going just so that we’re viewed as vulnerable and open. Some dealers aren’t that organized, but some are. Some are! They send hunters out. Those guys’ main purpose is to find cities that can be infiltrated. I’ve avoided that so far, but I can’t do it forever. But yeah, if steroids help cover us, then fine. Sign me up.”

I didn’t want to admit it, but it did make a little sense.

“Just,” I said, the fight leaving me, “let Jenkins know that he messed up.”

It was all he needed to hear, because he was gone as soon as the words left my mouth.

I heard him peel out of the driveway a second later.

I stayed frozen for a moment and then cursed. I was still in my bikini. I had left my purse at Sers, with my cellphone inside. And my car was at Tray’s.

I was stranded, in my own home.

*

As one of my lessons of survival, I learned to stay away from drugs. They were like locusts. They were everywhere, presented as candy. The truth: they were poison.

Drugs had the power to take families away; they just ripped through them and left them in pieces. I’ve witnessed it many times in families that I’ve been placed in, but most recently, with Brian.

When he used, I’d bathe him and clean up his vomit. And I took him to rehab. I had to take him four times, until it finally stuck.

I’ve done a lot of bad stuff, even since I moved in with the Matthews—when I had taken their name.

But there’s one thing I want, without a doubt: to stay in this family.

And so that was why I was in Mandy’s room, packing her bags.

Three hours later, I heard voices, so I grabbed her bags and took ‘em downstairs. This didn’t need to be a drawn-out process.

They were in the kitchen, laughing, when I set them at the end of the stairs. I looked up and met Mandy’s gaze.

“What are you doing? Those are my bags,” Mandy asked, confused, reaching to fill a glass with water.

“Oh! She packed for you,” Jasmine murmured, sounding touched. “That’s sweet of your sister.”

“Taryn, you didn’t have to do that. Really. Now I’m going to have to repack whatever you put in there.”

I still hadn’t said anything, my eyes were flat and void of emotion.

Mandy misunderstood my look. “Seriously, Taryn. The cheerleaders’ bus leaves early, but I’ll have time to do it tonight.”

“Why’d you take off?” Tristan asked, sitting at the kitchen table, curving her legs gracefully underneath her, a glass of ice water in front of her.

“Yeah, no doubt,” Mandy remarked, pulling out a Diet Coke. “You left all your stuff with me. It’s on the table, by the way. But seriously, you took off and then Tray took off.”

“You guys have a fight?” Tristan asked, not sounding sorry.

I took a deep breath and said quietly, somber, “Tell ‘em to leave, Mandy.”

“What?” She laughed, reaching for a glass.

“Tell your friends to leave. Now.”

“Ookay,” she joked, “what are you on?”

“Mark Jenkins,” I announced, seeing Mandy freeze in place. I added, “Tell ‘em to leave.”

Her eyes moved from me, to the luggage and then to her friends.

“Tell. Them. To. Leave,” I ordered.

“Seriously, you can be such a bitch.” Jasmine laughed, sitting opposite Tristan. “It’s kind of getting funny.”

“Mandy,” I barked.

“Uh,” she said weakly, “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Why don’t you guys—”

“Go?” Tristan finished, looking dismayed. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, she is,” I clipped out, looking at the door pointedly. “Thanks for driving her home.”

“Holy shit, you are a real class act,” Tristan muttered underneath her breath, standing. Rolling her eyes, she followed everyone else out.

Mandy hesitated in the doorway, before she closed it and looked at me. Her eyes shifted to the bags at my feet.

I kicked ‘em and they spilled over.

“These are yours,” I exclaimed. “We’re leaving for rehab. Right now.”

Mandy laughed, shaking her head. “Oh no, oh no, no, no, no. I’m not. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You are,” I said again firmly, “and you’re going tonight.”

“No.”

“You’re addicted. You had enough of it upstairs to sell ‘em yourself.”

“No,” she said again, shaking her head, frozen in place.

“I’m a pro at this, Mandy. I’m not going to listen to your cries, to your begs, or to your pleas. I’m done. I’ve been there, done that, and I’m not going back. You’re going to rehab. Tonight.”

My eyes held my promise.

I closed my eyes for a second, flinching as I remembered his voice, begging me not to take him.

“Let’s go.” I cleared my throat, shaking away the memories.

“I’m not going,” Mandy cried out, and I heard the hitch in her voice. She would become hysterical in a second, when the shock wore off and she realized the game was over.

“It’s just me right now,” I cut off her tirade, “your parents are gone for the next month. Austin won’t have to know. So it’s just me and this won’t go anywhere else, I promise. But you are going. I will not listen to anything, any games, any promises, anything. I’ve heard ‘em all, Mandy. I’ve gone through this before and you’re not going to win. You’re not going to get out of this. If you run out of here, I’ll call the cops.”

I had no proof. I’d flushed the evidence, but she didn’t know. She didn’t need to know.

“I found all of them. In your Kleenex box. Under your mattress. In your bathroom. I found them all. All five grand worth,” I bit out, my jaw clenching.

“Do you have any idea?” she started out softly, “any idea what it’s like?”

“What? The pressure to be perfect?” I shot back, knowing why she’d gone for them. “To be perfect for your family? Your perfect boyfriend? Your perfect scholarship? Student council. Cheerleading. Keeping friends like Amber and Jasmine. Being one of the most popular girls? No. I don’t know what that’s like, but I know what it’s like it try to be perfect.”

I’d taken every excuse she was going to use.

“I used to try to be perfect,” I swore, “and it earned me an abusive foster father who’d visit my room at night when I was six.”

Mandy paled as my words registered.

“So fuck you. I know what it’s like, but I never turned to drugs. Ever.”

“I—” Mandy tried.

“No. We’re going. There is no debate, no give and take in this. You’re going. Now,” I said forcefully, grabbing my purse and her keys.

I threw the bags at her. She blindly caught one of them, so I grabbed the other two and her elbow. I led her out the door and into her car. Then I got into the driver’s side and started the car.

I locked the doors and pulled out into the street.

And that’s when the tears began.

I wiped mine away, as they silently slid down my face. But I kept on driving. My eyes set fiercely on the road.

Mandy bawled. Her hands cradling her face, she rocked, back and forth.

“Oh no. No, no, no, no…” It went on like that for the entire drive. She bawled, and rocked, and bawled some more. And she tried to bargain, she tried to beg, but she saw my face. She remembered what I said, so she started crying some more.

The drive took forty minutes. I took her to where I always took Brian and was greeted by the same front desk clerk, Patricia. She’s been here each time I’ve brought Brian in. She recognized me and gave me soft, sad smile when she saw who was behind me.

Mandy wrapped her arms around herself. She’d grabbed a blanket from in her car, and I carried all her bags inside. I dumped them at the desk, but I didn’t say anything. I don’t think I could around the lump in my throat.

“Hi, Taryn.” She smiled gently, standing up. She gave me the clipboard and pen. “You know the drill.”

I nodded, my throat choking.

I shook my head. “She’s my sister,” I managed to say hoarsely.

“We’ll take care of her,” she murmured tenderly.

I nodded, my tears blinding me for a moment.

I looked at Mandy and saw that she was worse than me. She looked like a six year old. Raw. Vulnerable. Exposed.

My heart broke into a million pieces for her.

“I’ll handle everything,” I murmured, more to myself than Mandy.

Mandy just cried some more.

She’d taken a seat, but was rocking back and forth. I stood in front of her, clipboard in my hand.

Pat and two other staff members stood behind her, waiting.

“Mandy,” I spoke up, my voice breaking, “you gotta go.”

“No,” she shook her head, whimpering, “no.”

“You have to,” I whispered. “You gotta…you gotta face your shit, Mandy. You haven’t. You’ve been hiding, but that’s over now. You can make a fresh start now. You can be out of here—” I trailed off, knowing she wasn’t even listening. She couldn’t. She was still fighting it. Fighting me.

I looked back at Pat, who gave me an encouraging look, a saddened smile.

“We gotta say goodbye,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

“No,” Mandy whispered again, to herself.

“Come on. Let’s go.” I pulled her up and wrapped my arms around her. Slowly, Mandy moved her arms around me, and then she clung to me.

“Don’t me make do this, Taryn. Don’t make me go in there.”

“You have to,” I said back, whispering into her hair, “or I’m gone.”

Mandy didn’t say anything.

“I love you,” I whispered, hugging my sister.

Mandy clung tighter.

I saw Pat come up behind Mandy, and she reached for her arms.

But Mandy clung—like Brian had. She screamed, she cried, she begged. And then, finally, she stood and walked with them.

She’d given up. The first part of the fight.

I took a deep breath, knowing what was next, knowing it wasn’t over. And I sat down and filled out the paperwork. Making sure they knew the amount of Vitamin R that I found. That this had been the first time Mandy had been confronted. I pulled out our insurance card and wrote everything down. When I handed it over to Pat, my hands were shaking.

“You okay, dear?” she asked kindly.

I shook my head and then I turned and left.

On the car-ride home, I called Tray. When he answered, I asked swiftly, “Where are you?”

“I’m at home. I drove by your place, but it was dark.”

“I took Mandy to rehab.” I choked on a sob, and stomped it down. “I can’t…I’m coming over.”

“Okay,” Tray murmured and I heard the strength in his voice.

It nearly broke me, but I kept driving.

Almost an hour later, I pulled into his driveway.

When I went inside, all the lights were off. No cars were in the driveway, except Tray’s and mine, thank God.

I found Tray sitting in the glass-encased patio, where we’d congregated the night before. He had an open bottle of Jack Daniels in front of him and two shot glasses. He’d been staring outside.

I looked and saw the pool’s glistening reflection from the moonlight above. It had been raining last night, but tonight it was clear as day. There was a full moon shining its ray of light down on the water.

Tray didn’t look at me, but he pushed out the chair beside him. I bypassed it and curled up in his lap, resting my forehead against his chest as his arms came around me.

We sat there in silence and he held me for a while.

“Jenkins is gone,” Tray murmured, holding me tighter, “and his employer is done. I made a few phone calls.”

“To your cop buddies?” I asked in a whisper, my forehead burrowing closer in his chest.

He didn’t answer. But he didn’t need to.

“Thanks,” I said softly.

“How’s Mandy?”

I looked up at him, sitting up a bit. “She’s…not good. She’ll hate me for a while. I’m sure I’ll be getting hate voice messages from her soon, but I think she’s just in shock right now. I told her no one would find out at school.”

Tray nodded, watching me intently.

I knew he wouldn’t say anything. Just like he knew I wouldn’t say anything. Maybe that was why we paired up, we both had secrets—and we both knew how to keep those secrets.

“I’m sorry, fuck, I’m just—” Tray faltered, shaking his head. He rubbed a hand over his jaw and through his hair, not sure of what to say. “If you want to get forgetful drunk, I got the provisions.” He gestured to the bottle.

I rested against him again, my back pressed to his chest, and lifted up his hands. I traced my fingers gently over his knuckles, inspecting the bandages. He did the same to me, running his hand tenderly over my cuts.

“This morning,” Tray started, I heard a slight hitch in his voice, “I hated seeing Galverson here. The fucker took away my family. I couldn’t choose between my dad and Chase, so I pushed all of ‘em away. Chance, he was just a dipshit. He hated that I chose Dad’s side. And dad…he was so fucking smug, he thought I chose his side. And,” he took a deep breath, “I thought about it, I really did. But I heard mom crying one morning. I’d come home early from soccer practice, so she thought no one was around. I heard her when I went to the kitchen, and I found her in their bathroom. She had a fucking razor in her hands and she was filling the tub.”

I closed my eyes, seeing it all in my head. Tray, as a child, finding his mother like that.

His voice hardened as he continued, “She was crying about Dad and I realized then that I couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t—do what he was doing—so I made the decision. If I couldn’t pick, I didn’t want anyone of them around. I already had a lot of the taps and stuff for Chance, but I lied to Chance and told him I messed up. That was when he beat the shit out of me. It was the last time I saw him. I was in the seventh grade. It took an entire year to get all the proof I needed.”

“You haven’t seen Galverson since…?”

“That was the time I used the tunnel, the only time really. I told Dad and Galverson my ultimatum and I hightailed it out of there. I locked ‘em in Dad’s office and ran for the tunnel. By the time they got out, I was already underneath the pool. I think Dad just forgot about the tunnel, I don’t know…maybe he knew and didn’t say anything on purpose. He could’ve. I didn’t know if I was going to get shot when I got out on the other side, but I had to go anyways. Live or die, right? Either way, you gotta fight.”

It sounded like my motto.

Tray continued, “I saw Galverson this morning and I felt that day, like I was there again. Reliving everything…I half expected my dad to come waltzing in from the library.”

“Was Jace there?”

“Yeah, but he was outside. Galverson sent him out by the guards. Fuck, I hid at Carter’s for a week after that. Carter never asked, he was just happy that I was around—I never let his dad push him around when I was there.”

I grinned, resting my head against his chest. “Mandy told me that most of parents aren’t exactly fond of you.”

That made him grin. “Shit, they hate me.”

I reached for his hand and intertwined our fingers. I studied our hands in the moonlight.

Tray sighed and added, “I stayed a lot at friends’ places a lot during that year and freshman year. I was such a shit, too. I was just a punk kid with this giant chip on my shoulder. I’d never talked about it, to anyone. I’m surprised I still have any friends. I was lucky. I think the principal and superintendent felt sorry for me; they just kept suspending me when I’d get in trouble. I should’ve gotten kicked out a dozen times, maybe more. But they always let me come back. They knew my parents took off, but no one knew why. I don’t think they did anyway, I never said anything. You’re the first one I’ve ever told, and it’s only because of your own thing with Galverson that I even said anything.”

“I’m glad you told me.”

“Fuck, Taryn, if he comes after us, I have a contact for witness protection. It’s all worked out, but I hate—fucking hate—that I have to have it at all, you know?”

“Yeah,” I whispered, letting my legs fall apart, each leg dangling beside him, to the floor.

Tray breathed again as he wrapped his arms around my waist, our hands now intertwined.

“I told Mandy that no one would know, but I lied. They’re going to have to call Shelley and Kevin—Mandy’s only seventeen.”

“She’ll be okay,” Tray murmured.

“Yeah, but it’s going to be a lot of work for her.”

“You want a drink?”

“No,” I said firmly, my thoughts on Mandy.

“Okay,” he said quietly, turning to kiss my cheek. Then he tilted my head back to meet his mouth. It was a kiss meant to comfort me, to show his support.

“I have to talk to her coach tomorrow. They have to know a reason why she’s not going to be around. I suppose I’ll have to tell the counselor something, too. And, fuck, I have to give Props those tickets.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.”

“Play-offs are tomorrow. Carter’s planning on leaving in the morning,” Tray commented.

“I’m not going.” I hadn’t planned either way. “Not with what happened and all. Mandy’s going to be calling me all day. At least, that’s what Brian always did.”

“Can you do anything for her?”

“No, not really.”

“Maybe you should come with. It’d help take your mind off her and the whole situation.”

“I don’t know. I just know that I can’t take much more. I’m so tired, Tray, of everything. I thought,” I let out a deep breath, “I left this all behind. When I get back home, I’ll have to clean up her room.”

“I saw it. You tore it up, it looked like a bomb had gone off in there.”

“I was on a mission. Plus, I know where to look. I am, after all, a thief.” I grinned. I was feeling a little better. I didn’t know why, or how, but I was better. I turned around and straddled him, both of us remembering our activities last night.

“I can tell Carter to fuck off and come with you. We can take my vehicle, we’d leave whenever you want.”

“When’s the first game?”

“Three. Most everyone’s checking in at the hotel tomorrow afternoon and then heading over to the game.”

“A hotel?”

“Yeah, I have a room reserved.”

“Were you planning on sharing with Carter and the guys?”

“I was, until two weeks ago.” He stared at me pointedly.

“Oh.” I grinned.

“Come on,” he persuaded, his hazel eyes twinkling with a smidgen of amber. “Mandy’s in rehab. Your folk are gone. It’ll be fun. It’s time to get away.”

“Do I have to spend time with Amber, Jasmine, and Tristan?” I rolled my eyes. I’d sign up for rehab myself before I had to spend a weekend with those three.

Tray laughed. “I’m thinking no.”

He’s right. I really didn’t have much else to do, except clean up Mandy’s room. Besides, a weekend, in a hotel room, with Tray sounded heavenly. A week ago, I never would’ve admitted that, let alone think of it.

“Okay.” I sighed. “But I have a lot to do in the morning.”

“You can get it done. Go in first hour and give your messages. Then pack, clean Mandy’s room. We can leave whenever you’re done.”

“It’d be fun to leave with everyone else.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. Tray tugged me down to him and I met him half-way, our lips met and we clung to each other. The kiss started out slow and tender, but a spark ignited in me. I clung to him desperately, as I felt the fire explode inside me.

Tray was quick to respond and the kiss deepened, passionate.

Our movements were heated, both desperate to forget everything, the need to be consumed by each other.

Tray stood and walked us to the same bedroom.

By the time he lowered me to the bed, I was already wrenching off his shirt, and his hands were fevered, trying to get mine off. It became a race and we couldn’t move fast enough. Finally, he pushed in, a deep slide that left me gasping. He reared up again and again, going deeper each time. I moved in sync with him, both of us a little crazed in the moment.

After we came together, my last thought before I fell asleep was that the world hadn’t fallen apart.