For Lake’s honor roll ceremony, I wore the nicest things I owned—slacks, a dress shirt and tie, and a light cashmere pullover. They were all gifts from Cathy, who shopped often and slipped us things without Charles knowing. It bugged the hell out of me to take more charity from Tiffany’s parents, except in cases like this, where I wanted to look nice. I’d even gotten a real haircut at a legit barber for the first time since before prison.

I drove us to the high school, parked, and put the keys in my pocket. While Tiffany led the way to the auditorium, I looked around the campus where Lake spent most of her days. If Maddy were still alive, she’d have been eighteen this year. I would’ve done things like this with her, helped with college applications, quizzed her for final exams, watched her receive honors. She would’ve. She was smart, driven, and creative. She’d wanted to do something artistic, but even if she’d tried to get out of going to college, I would’ve made her do it.

The Kaplans stood outside the auditorium. My eyes went straight to Lake’s profile as she spoke to her father. She was changing before my eyes, subtle things I doubted anyone else even noticed. I did. There were more freckles on her nose than she’d had months ago. Her hair fell longer down her back. It made her look younger when we were all just hanging around the house, but sometimes, like tonight, she wore it up in a twisty thing and could pass for early twenties. It made my gut smart each time it hit me—she was getting older every day, living a life that didn’t include me.

I’d learned through dinner conversation that she’d been in a school play while I was inside, and since I’d gotten out, she’d been taking drama and improv classes. I could see the difference in her personality. She still didn’t seek the spotlight, but she was more self-assured than she’d been when we’d met. It was a quiet confidence I could sit and watch for minutes at a time without even realizing it, and that was dangerous.

“How long will this take?” Tiffany asked as we approached her family.

Everyone turned to us. “This is a big honor for your sister,” Charles said. “She’s Student of the Month and number three in her entire graduating class.”

I met Lake’s eyes, trying to convey how proud I was with a look. She smiled back. Wrapped up in her, it took me a moment to feel Charles’s eyes on me. Quickly, I looked at Tiffany, my go-to whenever I was caught staring at Lake.

Tiffany put an arm around Lake. “Congrats, little sis,” she said and whispered something in her ear—a long, seemingly detailed message that made Lake’s eyes go huge and her cheeks flush.

What was it about? Not me, I guessed, since both girls started to giggle. They didn’t often have moments like this, but it always threw me when they did. I was used to them bickering.

Tiffany returned to my side, and everyone looked at me. “Congratulations.” I cleared my throat. “You should be so—proud.” My heart tightened into a ball as I said it. I knew how hard she’d worked. How smart she was. How much she wanted to impress her dad.

“We all are,” Charles said, kissing her on top of the head. “It isn’t number one, but it’s certainly still impressive.”

Lake glanced at me and then the ground. Why was she embarrassed? Because she wasn’t number one? In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be the man who announced in front of everyone that she was number one in my eyes.

“Cut her some slack,” Tiffany said. “Senior year is supposed to be fun.”

“You’ve had enough fun for the entire family,” he retorted.

Tiffany flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Can we go in? It’s hot out here.”

Tiffany’s dad hurt her when he spoke like that, but she didn’t show it. At least, not the way most people would. Tiffany’s emotions surfaced in other ways. As we walked into the auditorium, I put a hand on her upper back to comfort her.

Lake looked away. “We’re in the front row,” she said and waved to where other students had gathered. We took our seats right under the stage, me at one end, next to Tiffany, Charles and Cathy at the other, with Lake in the middle.

After a short speech, the vice principal called each honor roll student to the stage to shake hands and get a photograph taken.

“Lake Kaplan,” he announced. She stood, her strappy, loose dress flowing around her legs as she walked by me. She had red marks on her knees and thighs where she’d crossed her legs. I was tempted to reach out and smooth away that redness until it was white again. To tuck the strands of her hair that’d come loose back where they were supposed to go. She climbed the steps at one side of the stage and uncurled her fists to accept a certificate. Behind the podium, a row of students had formed.

All at once, I felt Tiffany’s glare. “Do you always look at seventeen-year-old girls that way?” she asked.

She’d said it softly, but not so softly that her parents might not hear. I leaned into her and whispered, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You’re practically drooling.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s your sister.”

Tiffany narrowed her eyes. “I wasn’t talking about Lake.”

I swallowed down my irritation. It wouldn’t do an ounce of good to make a scene here. Fact was, Lake was the most conservatively dressed of all the girls, and if I hadn’t been so distracted, I probably would’ve looked at them. Thin and beautiful, they stood in a row as the vice principal spoke about their accomplishments, California beach girls with tans, mile-long legs, and golden hair, even though we were still a couple months from summer.

Why had it been Lake who’d captured my attention that day on the site and hadn’t let it go since? I was grateful I didn’t see these other girls and feel stirred the way I did for Lake, but at that moment, I wished it was anyone but her. I wished I’d never fucking met her.

I just didn’t wish it enough to walk away for good.

After the ceremony, in the parking lot, Charles announced, “We’re going to dinner to celebrate.”

Even Cathy looked surprised. “We are?”

“Manning and I have plans,” Tiffany said, even though we didn’t.

“Cancel them. This is important.”

“Oh, let them go,” Cathy said. “Lake makes honor roll and student of the month every year. It’s not as if it’s her first time.”

“I made reservations at the Ritz-Carlton in Dana Point,” Charles said.

The girls gasped. “Really?” Tiffany asked. “It’s so fancy.”

“I’m aware.” He smiled a little. “Lake’s worked hard this year. I just want us all to take a night to recognize that.”

“We recognize it every day,” Tiffany said, but when her mom eyed her, she added, “but I guess tonight’s a big deal.”

“How come I didn’t know about this?” Cathy asked.

“It was last minute. The hotel manager is an old friend and squeezed us in.” He put his arm around Lake and nodded at me. “You two’ll meet us there? Tiffany knows the way.”

As we got in the car, Tiffany sighed. “I don’t want to go.”

“We have to,” I said as I pulled onto Highway One.

I expected a rebuttal but got silence instead, which meant she was genuinely upset. I kept my left hand on the wheel and massaged her neck with my right. Touching her was becoming normal, automatic. I wasn’t all that affectionate by nature, but Tiffany loved when I was. When she wasn’t feeling well, a small touch went a long way. “Why don’t you want to go?”

“I’m tired. It was a long day at work. I just want to go home and be with you.”

“All right.” I slowed for a stoplight. “What’s the real reason?”

She looked over at me a few moments, then curled into the seat to face me, nuzzling my hand. “It’s just like a constant barrage.”

“What is?”

“All of it. I never made the regular honor roll, forget the principal one. Never had the grades to even apply to USC. Every time my parents make a huge deal of Lake’s success, it just feels like they’re pointing out everything I didn’t do.”

“You know they’re not,” I said. “They’re just proud of Lake and they aren’t thinking about how it might make you feel.”

“That’s almost worse,” she said. “It’s like I’m not even there.”

The light changed. I squeezed her shoulder and took my hand back to steer. “They’re just caught up in the moment. Your dad’s wanted this for so long.”

“Another assistant manager position opened up this week,” she admitted. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but . . .”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t want you to be disappointed if I didn’t get it.”

“I wouldn’t be disappointed as long as you tried. I bet there are a lot of people at the store who don’t even have the guts to do that.”

“Well, I might be one of them.” She sat up straighter. “I mean, why should I bother? They didn’t give it to me before, even though I’m one of the top salespeople in my department. They want to promote people who’re more qualified on paper so they can keep moving them up into corporate positions. It’s bullshit.”

I glanced over. “You’re one of the top salespeople? How come you never mentioned that?”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t sound like much compared to USC.”

“Your department’s got a lot of people in it,” I said, switching lanes. “Not only that, but it’s not a small thing to be good at sales. People pay a lot of money to master a skill like that.”

“It is hard,” she agreed, talking faster, “but I wouldn’t call it a skill. You just ask people about themselves and learn enough about the product to make it sound like you know what you’re talking about, and before you know it, the credit card is out.”

“Tiffany, taking people’s money is a skill, believe me.” I flipped on the blinker. “Could you imagine me selling anyone anything like that?”

Her laugh lightened the mood in the car. “I mean, there’s even more to it than that, I was just being sarcastic.” She gestured out the windshield at nothing. “Like, when I find the right outfit for someone’s weird body type, it feels like . . .”

“An accomplishment?” I asked.

“Yes! It feels good.”

Hearing the excitement in her voice caught me off guard. She rarely got worked up about her job, and her bad mood began to make a little more sense. If she said any of this to her dad, he’d probably undermine her achievement. “I’m taking you out to celebrate,” I said.

“Celebrate what?” she asked. “I don’t even know if I’ll get the job.”

“The salesperson thing. I’m telling you, it’s a big deal. Especially somewhere as big as Nordstrom.”

I didn’t have to look over to sense her smiling. “Listen to this. There’re people in the corporate office who get paid to shop. They travel around to designers and pick out the clothes and accessories we carry.”

“Sounds perfect for you.”

“I know, but I’d need a degree.”

I wanted to finish my twelve credits, but I couldn’t afford it, not right now. Tiffany might be able to qualify for a loan, though. “Maybe you could enroll somewhere in the fall. Not to make your dad happy, but because you want the promotion. Because you one day want to be that person who . . . shops for a living, Lord help us all.”

She grinned, tracing circles on the console. “I don’t know. It seems kind of impossible, but . . .”

“But what? Find out the requirements of those positions and see if there are any classes that match.”

“I just don’t know if . . . if I want to do that forever. I feel like I need to sit down and really think about my future.”

I wanted to point out to her that that was a luxury most people didn’t have—people like me—but I didn’t want to diminish the fact that she was finally tapping into something that might interest her. Tiffany had some flaws, but those flaws could easily work in her favor if she aimed her energy in the right direction.

Her dad had tried to get her to do just that, and her mom had let her off the hook for too long now. It was a funny, almost rewarding thing, to be the only one who’d been able to get through to her so far.