I clasped on to her. I meant what I said—why did she like me? Why did anyone like me? Some days I was weak, whiny, and wishy-washy. And those were the only W characteristics I could think of when I was intoxicated.

I was so goddamn lucky.

“You’re not any of those.”

I pulled back.

Heather shook her head, wearing a wry grin. “You’re not weak. You’ve never whined. And you’re damn sure not wishy-washy. You love, and you love hard, and you never complain. I know you stepped away from Mason, and I know it probably killed you to do that. Don’t think of yourself that way. Anyone who says that shit about you is the weak one. They’re the whiny ones. Don’t ever let yourself be defined by someone else’s biases. Got it? You’re one of the strongest people I know, and that’s saying a lot.” Her hands caught my shoulders. “Got it, Sam? Tell me you got it.”

“Got it.”

The words spilled from my tongue. I hadn’t realized I’d spoken out loud. But she was right. I was strong. My shoulders lifted and straightened. I did love hard. I was more than what others might say. They were the things they said.

“Thanks, Heather.”

Her smile turned gentle.

I groaned. So many tears. I was sick of them. “I think we should do more shots.” I lifted my hand to order them, but Heather pulled it down.

“I think you’re good with those,” she said. “Here.” She gave me a different drink, like the one she’d given Taylor. “That’s a Long Island Iced Tea. You can sip on that the rest of the night.”

“Sip?” I sneered. “You mean chug?” And I proceeded to do just that.

“No!” She laughed, and so did Taylor. Both tried to pull the drink away from me.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this, Sam.”

I rarely was. I’d drink one or two, then stop. I couldn’t remember the last time I was really inebriated.

“Me neither,” Heather added.

Then Grace announced, “I’m so glad we became friends this year.”

“Yes! Friends!” I reached for my glass again. This time it was half-full. I could finish the rest, no problem.

“No!” All of them kept it from me.

“Come on.”

“No.” Courtney grabbed it and pushed it far behind her on the bar. I couldn’t get to it without losing my place by my friends’ side. The bar was dramatically busier than when we first arrived. I swayed on my feet, taking it all in.

“Where’d all these people come from?”

Taylor chuckled again beside me, and Heather said, “They’ve been here since we got in.”

“Really?”

Everyone nodded.

“Oh.”

I hooked my fingers around the loops on my jeans and tried not to sway. They were staring at me, waiting for something.

“What?”

I felt another wave of gratitude crash over me. Jessica and Lydia were my best friends growing up, but neither was loyal.

Then there was Becky.

Oh, Becky.

I had loved Becky.

She stood at my side when everyone deserted me, and she continued to stand there even during the ridicule and attacks. Even when the guy she always loved showed interest in me. I never should’ve become friends with Adam. That was on me, but it didn’t matter in the end.

She chose Adam over me.

Adam . . .

He was the friend gone wrong. How had that gone so wrong?

I was starting to sober.

Could I have done something different? Not been friends with him. At all. But that was before Mason and Logan. Could I have read the writing on the wall? Was there writing on the wall? Could I have known what would happen almost five years later?

If I had, maybe this rivalry with Mason and Logan wouldn’t have built itself up. Maybe Adam’s ego wouldn’t have been bruised. Maybe Mason wouldn’t have continued to see Adam as a threat, as someone coming to take me away.

Maybe none of those things would’ve happened.

But I didn’t know.

Could I have known? Had there been signs? Had I been like my mom all over again without realizing?

She strung men along. Had I done the same?

No . . . But . . .

“Hey, hey.” Strong feminine hands took my shoulders again. “Look at me,” Heather ordered.

I couldn’t. I shook my head instead. “Heather, I’m to blame for all of this. I didn’t want to be like Analise, but I was. I am. I became her when that was the last thing I wanted to be.”

“Look at me!”

I did, through watery eyes. “It’s all my fault.”

“No. It is not.”

“It is. It’s all my fault.”

She glanced to Taylor. “Okay, what happened? I haven’t pushed her to tell me, but I have to know.”

“Adam Quinn brought a gun to the parking lot, to see Mason.”

Courtney and Grace gasped.

In the back of my mind, I was surprised it wasn’t around campus yet.

I heard Heather curse under her breath. “Are you serious?”

Taylor nodded, tears in her eyes.

“Fuck’s sake.” Heather focused on me again. She lowered her head so her eyes were looking right into mine. “That is not your fault. Adam Quinn is not your fault.”

“But I could’ve not been his friend—”

“Samantha, stop it. You are not your mother. I know what you’re thinking, but you did not toy with one guy while screwing another. That’s not who you are. I wasn’t there in the beginning, but I wasn’t too far behind. You were explicitly honest about who you loved and who you were with.”

I tried to stop crying. I did.

“You never went there. Ever. You are loyal. You are strong. You are selfless. You are all those good things that your mother was not. She helped you learn who you wanted to be despite her, not who you could’ve been. Give yourself a break, Sam. You aren’t to blame for any of this.”

“Neither are the guys.”

We both turned to Taylor. She seemed to have spoken without realizing, and her hand touched her mouth. Her forehead wrinkled as she saw us looking at her.

“I mean it. The guys aren’t either. They just love you, and they protect you. It’s what they do. The whole thing was Adam’s fault, not yours, not Mason’s. Adam’s. He brought the gun. Mason didn’t give it to him. Mason didn’t tell him to bring it. Adam did. Whether what he said was true or not, why he had it there, it doesn’t even matter. He made the decision. Just like he chose to go along with his dad’s plan of spying on Mason, just like he chose to find that video and edit it to set Mason up, just like when he chose to break into your house. He made all those decisions. Not the guys.”

I didn’t say anything. But I clung to everything she said.

“Mason didn’t set Quinn up. He didn’t break into Adam’s house to try to spy on him for the rest of his life. What he did was fight back and try to push him away so he’d actually stay away. He was protecting you.”

I frowned. My thinking was becoming a bit more rational. Was she right? Had I been wrong to leave in the first place? Was Mason wrong to believe he couldn’t see the line when he was protecting me? Was this all really just an accident? Or Adam’s fault in the first place?

Everything was so muddled up.

My head felt heavy. My neck was stiff.

Why had we gone out drinking again?

“Okay.” As if reading my mind, Heather reached for my drink that Courtney had pushed away and put it back in my hands. “We’re not here to save the world. Heavy thoughts are not welcome now.” She included Taylor in the last statement, her eyes sweeping over and back to me. “And now . . .” She clinked her glass to mine. “Let’s get fucked up, because to be honest, we all need a break. One night.” She picked up her glass and chugged the entire thing.

I wasn’t far behind.

The music was already blaring, and Courtney jumped to her feet, grabbing Grace’s hands. “Come on. Let’s dance. I love this song.”

After that, the rest of the night was a different kind of blur.