I slide into the driver's seat and start the ignition, but I have to force myself to drive. There's too much noise in my head.

A few months ago, after the police found Emma's truck and the gruesome evidence left inside, life as I knew it took on a whole new meaning. Or rather, the fragility of life did, and how easily it can be stolen.

The potential for death became all too real. A sensation I could touch, an idea I could taste. Every time I hopped in my car or the tornado siren screeched its imminent weather warning, it was a direct threat to my personal well-being. Like walking a tightrope and not knowing if I'd make it across alive or plummet to my death below, one foot unsteadily stepping over the other.

What happened? the cops asked after Emma went missing. Did she ever talk about running away? How was her life at home? Was she unhappy?

Emma didn't keep secrets from me, nor I from her. That's what I told them. Because that's what I wanted to believe.

Only it wasn't true.

If there were things I'd hidden from her—like being in love with her boyfriend—then there must have been things she kept from me. I know there were. For instance, last winter, when I walked in on Emma and Jordan Pacey in the locker room after indoor drills. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but I heard the tone of their conversation. Hushed words laced with venom, hisses of wild indignation. An obvious argument not meant for anyone to overhear.

I hadn't intended to listen but found myself peeking around the corner anyway, too intrigued to turn away. And my heart stopped. The expression on Emma's face wasn't one I'd seen before. Slanted brows and rosebud lips pulled into an ugly sneer. Anger oozing from every pore in her body.

Emma didn't have enemies. She'd always been the one who drew others to her without even trying. Yet there she was; hostile, foreign. An Emma I didn't know. When a group of girls paraded into the locker room oblivious to the showdown taking place, I fell in step alongside them to escape being caught.

But later, my curiosity got the best of me, and I broke down and asked what they were arguing about. Emma brushed it off, saying it was nothing more than a disagreement about a pass, one I'd seen Jordan execute perfectly during practice. An outright lie, but I wasn't about to call her bluff. She could keep her secret, and I'd keep mine.

It bothered me for a couple days though, the fact she didn't fess up. But eventually the memory slipped away amid college admission tests and prom committee meetings, and then was swallowed entirely by her disappearance. The incident had been pushed so far back inside my brain, hidden by newer, more lustrous memories that I hadn't thought about it again.

Until now.

My phone vibrates in my pocket before syncing with the CR-V, and suddenly, Smith's voice fills the interior. "Are you on your way home yet?"

"I'm almost there," I say, passing the park I used to play at as a kid. It still looks the same. The merry-go-round and giant twisty slide. Children pushing each other on the swings. "Where are you?"

"Sitting in your driveway, waiting for the chocolate chip cookies that were promised to me."

I let out a laugh and turn onto the next street. "Mom has a late meeting so I have to fend for myself tonight. Do you want leftover takeout first, or just cookies?"

His deep baritone rumbles through my SUV. "How about cookies for dinner, and something else for dessert?"

His suggestion stirs something low in my stomach, and I'm not sure how to respond. He's been making playful comments lately, tiny innuendos with an underlying sexual nature. Notions that maybe he's thinking about it as much as I am. And the thought has my heart thumping out of my chest.

But I play it cool. "I'm pulling onto my street now. I'll see you in a minute."

Anticipation prickles down my spine, sharp and hot, like a current of electricity. I end the call and try to compose myself, but when I catch sight of him in the driveway, with his squared jaw and piercing eyes, my stomach does a slow somersault. I pull in next to his red Volvo and kill the engine, grab my bag from the back seat.

"Hey," I say, meeting him in front of my car. I want to say more, want to do more, but I'm afraid Emma might see.

The sun hovers just above the tree line, and brings out the honey-colored flecks in his eyes. He gives me a crooked smile, like he knows what I'm thinking but is too much of a gentleman to say. But damn, do I love that smirk. "How was practice?"

My odd interaction with Jordan had somehow overshadowed the news about North Carolina, and suddenly, I can't wipe the smile from my face. "You're not going to believe this." I don't give him a chance to respond. "Coach said the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill liked my highlight video!"

Any worries about Emma disappear when Smith scoops me into a hug. "I knew they'd love it!" He twirls me around before setting me back down. "So, what's next?"

I brush stray strands of hair from my face and grin. "She didn't say. I guess, wait until they contact me?"

"Have you told your parents yet?"

"I just found out." Smith is staring at me, obviously proud of my achievement. Before the typical insecurities work their way inside my head, I lick my lips and take a step closer, my announcement inciting a streak of courage that doesn't usually happen off the soccer field. My eyes linger over him in a way they never have before. At least, not with him watching so closely. "I was thinking, maybe we can celebrate?"

He catches on immediately. His gaze holds mine as he narrows the gap between us. "What did you have in mind?"

God, he's so much better at this than me.

I'm about to reply, when a screen door slams shut in the distance. I peer around Smith's shoulder as Emma barrels down her front steps and across the velvety lawn, a smile like Christmas morning lighting up her face. Smith turns just in time to catch her in his arms.

"I'm not dreaming, it's really you. I'm so happy you came to see me!" Emma squeezes her arms around his neck as though he's about to float away and it's her job to hold him in place. "I thought about you every day. Every single day. I honestly believe it's what saved my life. I can't believe you're here!" She lets out a screech that muffles against the side of his neck.

The scene unfolds like a movie and I'm sitting on the edge of my seat, waiting to see what happens next. All that's missing is the popcorn and a box of chewy Milk Duds. Watching them together like this, locked in an embrace, feels like no time has passed between them. Like they haven't spent the past six months apart.

Goosebumps rise along my skin.

Hadn't Emma said she was afraid to talk to Smith? Afraid of how he might react? If that's truly how she feels, she's doing a fantastic job of hiding it.

Smith stumbles back, his lips parted, brows furrowed in confusion. "Emma?"

Emma's voice breaks, caught between a laugh and a cry, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "It's me, Smith. I'm finally home." She grasps his hands in hers and brings them to her lips. "I've missed you so much. Did you miss me?"

I tear my eyes away and stare at the pavement, keeping my expression as indifferent as I can make it. Because I don't want to hear it. Don't want them to know how much it hurts, Smith admitting how much he's missed her. How he's prayed for her safe return.

Emma's home, and I'm happy. She's safe and where she belongs. But I'm scared, too. So very scared about what's going to happen next.

"I still can't believe it," Smith says, as I drag myself to the present. His eyes are wide, gaping. In shock. "How did you—my God, I have so many questions, I don't even know where to start. I know you're probably tired of talking about it, but—" His sentence ends abruptly, like he's trying to decipher between fact and fiction. "All we heard was that your truck was found a few months ago, and that you came out of the woods in Kentucky."

Emma nods, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Folds her arms across her body. "I can only remember bits and pieces of what happened, and even those are foggy. It was a man in a cabin, somewhere in the mountains." She shakes her head, her gaze drifting away. "He took my phone but I was lucky enough to find it before I escaped. It was dead, of course, but the hospital let me ..." She swallows, and a tremor rips through her entire body.

Smith reaches for her, his hands on her arms. "Hey, it's okay. You're safe now. It's over."

Emma nods, sniffles. Finally, her eyes meet mine, her lower lip trembling. "All I remember thinking is that I needed to get home." Tears spill down her cheeks in a sudden rush of emotion.

"You did, you did. You're so brave." Smith gathers her in his arms, his hand raking over her hair.

"I was scared I wouldn't see you again. I missed you so much," Emma murmurs into his shirt. Her shoulders shake and he somehow manages to bring her closer.

My gaze connects with Smith's and he mouths the words, "I'm sorry." I nod and clench my jaw, loathing this streak of jealousy.

What kind of friend am I? Emma needs me now more than ever. I should be here for her, in every way I can be. I step forward and sweep my hand in gentle circles across her back, the ridges of her spine rocky against my palm. "We were so worried about you. The entire town searched when you went missing. We didn't want to give up."

Her breath catches and she takes in a shaky gulp of air. "I knew you'd look for me. No matter what happens, I know I can count on you both to be here for me." Emma swipes a hand across her eye. "Come to my house," she says to Smith. "It's been so long. I just want to be with you."

"I —" He stops, his eyes darting again to mine.

Emma tugs on his sleeve, her feet inching toward the lawn. "Please, Smith. I need to feel your arms around me. To know I'm really safe."

Blood like molten lava oozes through my veins, singeing everything in its wake. Every inch of me wants to stop them, to keep Smith from leaving. But how can I deny Emma that after everything she's been through?

A pit opens in my stomach as I push past the protest in my throat. "You two should be alone," I tell them, my insides rebelling at the thought.

Smith stares at me, open-mouthed, as Emma pulls again on his sleeve.

Just go and get it over with! I scream in my head. Prolonging the inevitable isn't going to help anyone. It's going to sting—a lot—so it needs to happen quick. Like ripping off a scab.

"Emma Giselle!" a shout carries over on the breeze.

We turn in the direction of the voice. Emma's mom stands on their porch, hands cinching her cardigan in place. A gust of wind ruffles the dark hair around her face. Even in the distance, I can sense her disapproval. The tense posture, her expression a mask of unease.

"You need to come home," she says. "Your grandparents are on their way over."

Emma's shoulders deflate. She drops Smith's sleeve and mutters beneath her breath. "I have to go." She bites her lip, stares into his eyes like she's trying to commute a silent message. "They took my phone, but I'll find a way to get in touch with you. I promise."

Her parents have her phone. That's why we haven't heard from her.

Smith nods as Emma once again throws herself into his arms. "I'm so happy to see you!" She pulls away, holds his face between her hands, her tendons long and protruding like knotted cords. Were they like that before? "I'll talk to you soon."

She drags her focus from Smith and gives me a wave before heading across the lawn. We watch until she disappears behind their front door, neither one of us saying a word.

I'm still staring at Emma's house when I feel Smith's gaze on the side of my face. "That was crazy," he says after a long beat. His chest rises and falls like he's out of breath. "Are you okay?"

Am I okay? Am I okay...? "Yes," I finally tell him.

But it's not true. The truth is so much messier, and I'm getting good at telling lies.