"She's not going to mind. It's only a few months." Garrett reassured, leaning into the locker beside mine. "Plus, she really likes you. Told me if I do anything to you, she'll string me up by my feet herself."

I wanted to smile at that but caught sight of someone passing behind him in my peripheral and completely hyper fixated on him. I could feel my palms growing sweaty with his very presence; I felt as though the place I'd managed to adjust too had just been invaded.

Drew Hamilton was standing at the front doors, one of his hands rubbing the light fuzz on his head, eyes scanning the room. When they found my own, I watched his entire body straighten from the slight slouch it was in and he crossed the crowded hallway to where I stood beside Garrett. It was strange, seeing the hesitation and anxiety in every step he took. He would look over his shoulder every couple seconds, then around him and back at his feet.

He was like me. I had been so lost in myself these last few months that I hadn't realized there were other kids out there that were living exactly as I was. Constantly having to look over their shoulder in fear of someone stepping out with a gun.

"Everly, hey." Drew greeted, slowing to a stop a few steps behind Garrett.

Hearing the voice, Garrett pushed off the locker and turned so his back was against it, tossing another piece of his Mandarin in his mouth as his blue eyes flickered between Drew and me.

I didn't like this. He shouldn't be here. It felt as though he was bringing everything from Lincoln here.

"I texted you, but I don't know if you saw it." Drew continued once he came to the obvious conclusion I wasn't going to respond. "I was wondering if maybe you wanted to grab a coffee or something. I think there's a lot we need to talk about."

Garrett's eyes flickered from Drew to me, curious and encouraging. He liked that idea as much as Drew did.

"Sure, yeah." I agreed quietly. "Does tonight at seven work? I have to help my dad pack, but can meet you at Camilla's afterward."

Drew noticeably deflated in relief. "Yes, that's perfect. Sorry for intruding, by the way. My parents are at an appointment across the street, and I knew you went to school here. Thought I'd drop in and check on you."

"Thanks." I shifted on my feet, shutting my locker. "I'll see you later tonight then?"

Thankfully he took the hint that his being here was making me uneasy and started to back away with a small half smile tugging at the right side of his mouth. "Yeah, see ya."

Garrett finished the last slice of his orange as we watched him exit the school, jumping a few feet in the air when one of the jocks on their way in hit a trash can.

"Who was that?" Garrett asked in curiosity, dark brows shooting to his hairline. "I don't think you've mentioned that guy before."

"That's Drew." I whispered, "He was Brady's friend. On the team with Miles. We weren't ever that close."

Garrett didn't push or pry further but shrugged as the first bell sounded and nudged my shoulder with a supportive smile. "Well, clearly, he wants to change that. I think you should let you're guard down a little with him, Ev. You might be surprised with how much you have in common."

*

There was something bittersweet about seeing this huge house vacant again. The furniture had been loaded into the U-Haul by Uncle Micah and Dad a couple hours ago, and since Mom had cleared half the house already, there wasn't much for Dad to pack up. A few boxes of his, one of mine, and the two that'd belonged to Frankie and Clark.

"Are you sure about this, Evie?" Dad asked now, staring at me from the doorway. "We can run by the Brooks and pick up your stuff if you want to come with me."

There was a small part of me that very much wanted to do that. Though the idea of returning to that hell outweighed it by so much I hadn't ever stopped to consider it. I'd never been away from my parents for longer than a few days in eighteen years. But I had forced myself to believe that this was just a practice run for college, that my parents hadn't been parents for months. This was for the best, even if it hurt having to say goodbye to the last of my old life as he tried to keep himself together.

Rather than conversate in the house and allow it to listen, I followed him out the front door and leaned over the railing on the porch. Uncle Micah was still in the driver's seat of the U-Haul, kicked back with his phone and I'd assume blasting music by the head movements he was making.

"You can come with me, Evie." Dad repeated, falling against the rail to my right. "Your grandmother still has the guest room open."

"I'll be okay, Dad." That was a half-truth. In regard to living without him and my mother, I would be fine. It was the horror that haunted my every thought that made the words waver as they left my mouth.

He reached out and wrapped his arm around my shoulders and hugged me against his side. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. For everything."

"Daddy." The words caught in my throat, and he flinched. Once I'd recollected myself, I went on. "Do you really think that it'll get easier? All of this?"

There was silence for a while, his eyes trained straight ahead, body tense. Finally, he turned his head so he was staring down at me.

"I think that one day we'll be able to breathe a little easier. That we'll smile a little more." he answered indirectly, then heaved out an exhausted sigh and added, "But I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself for any of this. For hurting your brothers, for leaving my guns accessible to them. For not being the father you've needed these last few months."

I looked away the second the tears glassed his eyes over.

"Your mother and I, we used to call you our little miracle baby." A sad smile touched at Dad's lips as he reminisced in the memory. "You weren't planned, you were unexpected, and you made a hell of an entrance into this world. Fought your way out of that NICU. Fought your way out of your brothers' shadows. Fought your way out of that school that morning. You're a fighter, Everly. I know it's hard now, I know you don't see the light, I don't either. But you've always been one to keep pushing when everyone else walks away. You're going to be okay one day, Evie. That much I can promise you."

I tried to hold myself together, if not for my own sake, then his. But those words set that flicker of warmth I'd felt in my chest the day before winter break in Mr. Andrews classroom aflame and I moved so I could wrap my arms around my dad. He immediately clutched me against his chest, something so utterly sad in the hug. I felt the goodbye in it the way I had when my mother had done the same a couple weeks ago.

"I love you, Evie." Dad said, pulling away and cupping my face between his hands. "I love you so much you couldn't even begin to imagine how much watching you completely fall apart these last few months has ravaged through me and ate away at the little that was left of me. I am so sorry. I mean that from the bottom of my heart, baby girl. I'm always one call away and will be here any time you need me, okay? Never forget that."

*

I don't think I'd quite pulled myself out of my depressed state as I walked into Camilla's. I'd grown so used to the cautious and angry looks that stepping in and being greeted with sympathetic smiles and shoulder squeezes was enough for me to stop in the middle of the diner and blink fresh tears from my eyes. Luckily, I spotted Drew sitting at a booth in the back corner with his head down and made my way over to him before my emotions could get out of hand again.

"Hey." I dropped into the booth opposite of him.

He shut his phone off and pushed it toward the salt and pepper with a smile. "Hey."

There was a bout of silence before he spoke again.

"I watched your video." he said, scratching at the back of his head, avoiding my eyes. "I. . . I had no idea you were. . . that happened."

He struggled to get each word out, but I couldn't find it in me to offer any comfort, not yet.

"I was in Orchestra when it happened. Clark never made it that far." he went on. "But when everyone busted out into the courtyard, I had been out there on my way to the counselor's office and I saw Miles. I saw Frankie."

I shook my head, "I'm sorry. I wouldn't wish that on anybody."

"You're so strong, Evie." he reached across the table and grasped my closed fist tightly. "I never quite understood why Miles was so whipped over a girl that he spent three years glued to her side. Then I met you and I understood. Then I saw you in the aftermath of all this and I hated myself for ever questioning it."

"I miss him." I whimpered. "Every day I expect his face to light up my phone. And Brady. . . I expect his obnoxious laugh to fill a room."

Drew bowed his head at that but kept a hold of my hand. "Yeah, me too. The last couple weeks I've taken the drive out to Lincoln, and I just sit there. In the middle of the baseball diamond and I see them, running around me and roughhousing. It feels like just yesterday we were on our way to playoffs."

"I have to play old videos and voicemails from them to remember how they sounded." I confessed. "I can't remember what they smell or feel like anymore. I wear Miles' Letterman every day but it's just. . . a jacket. It doesn't feel like him anymore."

Drew lifted his head, eyes glistening with tears. "My mom lost it at dinner the other night. Brady used to spend dinner with us every weekend while his parents were out of town. She looked right at where he'd sit at our dinner table back in Lincoln and she started crying."

"It's not fair." I whispered. "It's not fair that they won't ever be able to walk the stage or down the aisle for that matter. They had their entire life pulled from under their feet. Because of me. All of it was because of me."

Drew's head immediately whipped toward me hearing the words. "You can't possibly believe that, Evie."

"Miles died trying to get me out of that school. If he'd went out into the courtyard he would still be here! And Brady. . . not only did he try to disarm Clark before he could hurt me further and get shot as a result, but with his dying breaths told me to get under him as a protection against my brother." I snapped. "So yes, Drew, I do believe it was my fault."

"They made the choices they did to protect you, Evie. And in that moment, maybe they did question whether it would kill them, but it didn't matter. Because they had to do something, they couldn't just stand there and watch." Drew said. "I knew Brady better than a lot and Miles was a close friend too, and I know that if it came down to everything happening again, that they'd do the exact same thing. Because that's just the kind of people they were."

I nodded and diverted my gaze to a waitress setting two cups of coffee and two cups of hot chocolate between us.

Once she'd disappeared, Drew stirred some creamer into the coffee and stirred it with a spoon as he spoke. "It's hard, you know. We heard about this. We knew that it was a possibility. But we always thought it'd never happen to us, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah."

"And now I'm stuck in this constant state of paranoia and mistrust. I jump at every loud noise and cower anytime I see or hear a gun, even if it's only on a TV screen."

I looked up from my hot cocoa, nodding. "Yes. Me too. The memories, the images, they're always on a constant loop in my head."

"Exactly. It's like. . . my parents tried to push medication after medication down my throat, but it didn't help. They just made me a zombie. And I thought. . . until I saw your interview, I thought I was the only one who felt like this. But I could see it on your face, hear it in your voice, that you felt it too."

"I'm sorry for ignoring you." I blurted, unable to filter the words before they slipped. "I just. . . I couldn't, you know? You were. . . Lincoln. . . I needed to get away."

"I understand." he said extending his hand again and touching my own. "And I'm sorry for not making more of an effort to show I cared. It's been a rough few month for me too."

I wished desperately to be able to tell him everything boiling to the surface, that had my chest a cold, dark void most days. Because I had a feeling he'd understand far better than anyone else did. I also knew that we'd have another chance to speak, so there was no need to rush it.

"You think we'll ever be the same as we were?" he asked suddenly, staring off into the distance out the window. "That we'll ever be okay?"

It'd taken me a long time to answer the question myself. I'd been at war with myself for over seven months as I tried to walk through the destruction my brothers had left for me to crawl my way out of. But as I nodded and looked my friend in the eyes, I genuinely believed the words that left my mouth.

"Yes, I think we will be."