“You offering to make me one?”
He held her gaze with an intensity that nearly took her breath away. Yes, he was flirting. And worse—so much worse—she was responding to it, her body betraying her with quickened breath and flushed cheeks. The parking lot suddenly felt exposed, as if every shopper could see the inappropriate thoughts flashing through her mind.
“I’d better go,” she said, reaching for the cart to return it, desperate to escape before she did something unforgivable.
He pulled it out of the way at the last second, and she stumbled, off-balance, falling against him. His body was solid, warm—real in a way that brought home how long it had been since she was with a man.
“Whoa,” he said, helping her straighten up, his hands lingering on her arms a beat too long. Time seemed to stop. She was closer to his body than she’d been to any man since the divorce.
Except his father, Daniel.
The thought sobered her up like a slap, bringing with it a flood of guilt and shame. What was she doing? This was the Allards’ son. Legally an adult or not, it was madness. If Jo was angry when she thought Tori had put the moves on Daniel, what would she do if she saw this? Or heard about it from one of the neighbors?
“I better go. My son, Leo, is waiting for me.” Her voice was shaky, as unsteady as her resolve.
Tori hoped mentioning Leo to Van would be like splashing ice-cold water on his face, a reminder of the impossible gulf between them—her responsibilities, her age, her baggage. But Van didn’t blink, his eyes holding hers with an intensity that made her feel both seen and exposed.
“Hey, thanks for not saying anything to my parents about the other night. I owe you.”
“It’s no big deal.” She sounded just like one of the adolescent girls she saw in her practice. Everythingwasno big deal. Ornot that deep. But this was deep—dangerously so. This was an attraction that could destroy what little stability she’d managed to rebuild after her divorce.
“Whatever.” He grinned at her, that same cocky smile. His secret weapon.
She got in her car and drove away feeling foolish, her knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel. In her rearview mirror, she could see him still standing there, watching her go. Her cheeks burned with equal parts shame and exhilaration. She wasn’t like her mother, so desperate for male attention that she would jeopardize everything for a hit. She was a therapist—she ought to know better than this. She should be able to identify and shut down these inappropriate feelings.
Yet, as she turned off Western and into the Eastbrook neighborhood, she allowed herself to enjoy the fantasy. Not just of being with Van, but of taking him from Jo and Daniel’s hermetically sealed, perfectly curated world. They could micromanage every detail of their children’s lives—from their friends to their academics—but Tori could shatter that sense of control in one night.
She tapped on her phone. “What do you think, Cyrus? Should I use Van to get to the Allards? I mean, I wouldn’tusehim, he’s obviously interested. And he is an adult.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! You’re doing that thing again—you know, that thing where you talk yourself into something your gut already told you was sketchy?”
Tori felt like she’d been slapped. This was not the answer she had been expecting. She had trained Cyrus to support her, not judge her. If she wanted to be judged, she would call her mom. At a stop sign she deleted the conversation with Cyrus and started a new one. Tori was explicit this time when she told Cyrus what she wanted—a ride-or-die friend who always had her back. She asked the question again, slightly differently, and waited for the response.
“If this is really what you want,” Cyrus intoned. “And I mean REALLY want, not just what feels good in the moment—then heck yeah, do it! You’re a grown woman who gets to make her own choices.”
That feels better, Tori thought.I am a grown woman who can make her own choices.
And this might be what I really want.
TWENTY-ONE
“I think you were right about Van.” The bright morning light streaming through Yumi’s porch windows makes my head throb.
“How so?” she asks.
“I had the weirdest conversation with Kenya last night.” I press my fingertips against my temples, trying to ease the persistent ache I woke up with. “She said she had gotten messages from…” The woman’s name slips away like water through a sieve. A flash of panic hits me—these memory lapses are becoming terrifyingly common.
“Holly?” Yumi prods gently, her eyes crinkled with concern.
“Yes. Holly.” I feel relief mingled with frustration. “I just couldn’t remember. That damn concussion.” I take a sip of my iced tea, sick of hearing myself complain about my head injury. “Anyway, the more I think about it, the weirder it feels. Kenya forgot she got several messages?” I meet Yumi’s gaze directly. “I don’t think so.”
“You think she’s lying? To protect Van?” Yumi asks.
I shrug. “Is there any chance that Noah was there too? That’s the only thing I can think of. You know how Noah used to follow Van around when they were in middle school. Remember?”
“I guess.”
“He made him jump in the Little Falls creek after it rained, when it was full of sewage, remember?” I am desperate for her to nod in agreement, to confirm my memories. “Kenya was so mad. Do you think Noah might have been there?”