BELINDA STANDS IN THE doorway to our apartment on Sunday and adjusts the scarves around her neck. Wide-eyed, we all stare and wait for her final assessment.

The past hour has been crazy at best, but Nolan had a math test to prove my mom helped him study, and the whole apartment is spotless. Even though it's only been a week since Belinda's last visit, Mom told her we already have a new employee.

So our fate is pretty much in Belinda's hands right now. The anxiety's going to make me throw up if she doesn't tell us how we did.

"Nolan does seem happy here," Belinda finally says. "You were right, this does seem to be the right home for him."

I practically collapse with relief. Belinda's going to give us a good referral. Nolan's going to stay here, right where he belongs.

"Oh, thank goodness," Mom says. "Thank you, Belinda."

When she leaves, we all converge for a group hug. I hold onto my cousin as tight as I can. Not that I ever would've let go.

"I knew we'd win," I say. "I mean, I was freaking out and everything, but I knew it."

"Does this mean we get takeout?" Nolan asks.

"Yes, sweetheart." Mom laughs. "Our plans are still on."

We decided earlier that if—when—Belinda gave us a positive assessment, we'd celebrate by ordering from whatever restaurant we want and watching superhero movies all night. We dig into our drawer of fliers and spend the next hour arguing over whether to get pizza or burritos.

"Where's Carson?" Nolan asks. "Shouldn't he be here by now?"

I check my phone. Three p.m. "Yeah, he should be." I text him and ask what's up.

An hour ticks by. Three extra-large pizzas, a few pounds of chicken wings, and enough root beer to flood the basement arrive. I haven't eaten all day; my mouth waters, and Nolan already has the first Avengers movie up. But I'm not eating until Carson replies. Mom and I set the food up on the coffee table, and once again, I check the time.

"Carson still hasn't texted me," I whisper to Mom. "I'm getting worried. It's not like him to blow me off, and he knew how important today was. We even got this weird pizza with bacon and pineapple for him."

"Why don't you go check on him?" Mom says.

"But..." I glance at Nolan, who has a big slice of pepperoni on his plate, his eyes glued to the TV screen.

"Nolan wants him here too." Mom rubs my arm. "Go pick him up now and you'll be back before the pizza gets cold."

"Okay. But I'll be right back."

I sling my denim jacket on before I zip outside, hurrying to the car as fast as I can. I should be ecstatic right now—all Mom has to do is get the court's approval on custody of Nolan, and since we already got Belinda's, the only ones left to convince are Colleen and the courts. I should be relieved. But my heart thrums my ribcage as I hop into the driver's seat, because all I can think about is Carson. What if he's fighting with his family again? What if he's in trouble? What if he's high?

I skip two stop signs, nearly blow a red light, and get to Golden Dawn in less than ten minutes. The Blues' trailers are obscured by the shadows of the trees. I park outside, and shouts echo from around the back. Heart pounding, I hurry past the firepit, a pile of kindling, and an axe to the back of the trailer. When I see them, I freeze.

Garnett is holding Carson back by his arms while Lucas knees him right in the gut.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?" I shove Lucas, and Garnett throws Carson on the ground. Carson coughs and scrambles to his feet. A fat bruise forms on his cheek, and blood drips from his swollen lip.

"Jill, go away." Carson spits on the ground. "Please."

"Better listen, Jillian," Garnett warns. "This isn't your business."

"It is my damn business." I put myself between them, standing in front of Carson with my fists balled. Pretty dumb, considering I'm smaller than all three of them, but I won't back down. Carson's brothers are dicks, but they're not going to lay their hands on a girl.

"You have no idea what's going on here, Jill," Lucas says. "So back off and stay out of my family's business."

"I'm not letting you hurt him."

"Real heroic." Before I have the chance to react, Lucas's arm snakes past me. I jump out of the way. Lucas grabs Carson's hand and pries something out of it.

A bag of white powder explodes all over the dirt.

"What the hell, man?" Carson pushes Lucas. "That was like a hundred bucks!" Then he looks at me and opens his mouth to say something, but not a peep comes out. Guilt takes over Carson's face.

No.

"There." Lucas glares at me. "What you interrupted was us trying to get this off him. Think you can do a better job of keeping him clean? Be my guest, but if you think you can save him or something, you're fucked in the head, Jill. He won't stop. He never will."

Garnett grabs Lucas's shoulder and turns him away. "It's done, Luke. Let's go."

I don't know how long the silence lasts. Enough for Garnett and Lucas to get into their truck and disappear. Enough for me to finally process what this means, and it's a punch straight to the gut. I want to cry and yell—not at Carson, at myself. For being such a naive, stupid idiot again. Of course he's still using. All the signs were right there in my face.

A blend of anger, confusion, and sadness rips through me, but all I can think to say is: "You were supposed to come over for movies and hang out with my cousin and me. We were waiting for you."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to let you down." Carson's voice is quiet, swollen with shame. At least he isn't insulting me by lying.

Tears burn, but I grip his face with both my hands and force him to look at me. My reflection stares back at me in the glassy surface of his eyes. I look pathetic and pleading. I let him go and cross my arms.

"Carson, I'm trying to understand here, but why would you do this to yourself? You were doing so well, I don't get it."

He says nothing, just kicks at the dirt like a guilty little boy.

"Can you at least tell me why? I'm hurt you'd blow off me and my family for this. How long have you been using?"

"I haven't been, I swear. Just got this today." Carson sucks in a breath and steps closer to me. I step back. Tears well up in his eyes; his shade of brown is normally beautiful, but right now they're like mud on a rainy day. I feel betrayed.

"Why?" I ask.

"Just, the way I've been feeling for the past week—it sucks, Jill. I wanted to feel... something. I wanted to feel alive. Not dead inside."

"You could've talked to me."

"You've already got enough to worry about."

My tears win, dripping down my cheeks. "But you're one of the things I worry about. Don't you get that? I care about you. I want you to get better."

"I swear, I didn't use." He glances at the blend of cocaine and dirt, like salt and pepper at his feet. "I was gonna, but I didn't. Garnett and Lucas caught me with that bag, and we've been fighting ever since. They stopped me."

The Blue family dynamic is transforming before my eyes. I thought Garnett and Lucas were nothing but horrible, abusive assholes. But the fact that they tried to stop Carson from using—even if it was with violence—means they must care in their own ways.

"Carse?" My skin crawls at the grating sound of Dorothy's voice from inside the trailer. "Carse? Is that Jillian? Carse!"

"Shit, there's my mom," Carson mumbles. "C'mon, let's get out of here before she comes out."

When Carson runs, I dart after him. I don't know why we're running, but we get into the car, and I start it up immediately, just as Dorothy comes out in a housecoat.

"Drive," Carson says.

So I do. Dorothy chases us in the rear-view mirror.

"What the hell?" I say once we're away from the trailer. "Why'd we run?"

Carson sinks in the seat. "She's been breathing down my neck. Asking about you too much. It's getting annoying. I'd rather avoid her."

Not complaining. Dorothy is nice and all, but now isn't the time to chat.

Away from the trailer park, the reality of the situation creeps back in. I roll down the window and let the warm air blow my hair from my face. The ride home is silent. No radio, no small talk. Carson chews his nails and taps his foot the whole time, and I wish I could take a skeleton key and unlock his brain, find out what he hides in there.

Maybe he's thinking: I'll change for real this time. I won't use anymore.

Or maybe it's: I'll get better at hiding it. Next time, she won't find out.

I want to ask him which one it is, but my words are a clump of paper in my throat. What am I supposed to do? There's no handbook on how to deal with loving an addict. If I knew it was this confusing, I never would've been so hard on Mom for giving Dad so many chances.

The thought sends shivers up my spine. No, this isn't like Mom and Dad's relationship. Mom said it herself: Dad was already a lost cause, but Carson still has time to change. I still have time to help him.

I won't give up so easily.

Instead of heading home, I make a U-turn and head toward the outskirts of town. A winding road leads through the trees, to a secluded parking lot where no one ever goes.

No one except us.

When Carson notices the route, he looks at me, but says nothing. I park under the shade of two maple trees and turn the car off. Without the wind, it's immediately hotter in here. Carson's bottom lip trembles, and he won't look at me.

"I don't wanna lose you, Jill. Not after I finally got you."

"I don't want that either, but I need honesty if this is going to work. I can't have you hiding things from me."

"I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. I swear I wanna change, but every time I get close, it's like something snaps in me and I can't resist anymore."

Emotions well up and overflow inside me. I don't know what to do. But I want to hold him, keep him with me. Keep him safe.

So I lean over and kiss him, and he kisses me back. I pull away and say, "I don't want to give up on you."

We kiss again, and it doesn't take long for it to grow heavier. My sensible half knows this isn't the time to do this—but when I'm intoxicated by the feeling of his lips on mine and his hands on my body, it's hard to think about anything else. He unbuckles his jeans as fast as I can get my shorts off. I flip on top of him, but before I push down, I meet his eyes.

"Carson," I whisper. "I just—I want you to be okay. I want you to be honest with me."

He smiles and strokes my cheek with his thumb. "I'm okay. As long as I'm with you, I'm okay."

I rake my fingers through his hair, take in the warmth of his body beneath mine. And at least for right now, he really is okay. I know because I can feel his heartbeat, and hear his rough breaths in my ear, and taste the smoke on his lips. We're alive, moving together, feeling each other's skin. And I want so badly to believe Carson can change, even with the voice in the back of my head whispering, "He never will."

***

By the time we get home, the pizza is cold.

Unlike the other few times Carson and I have had sex, this one doesn't seem right. Sure, it felt great at the time, and in a state of euphoria, everything in the whole world was suddenly better. But the afterglow leaves a dull ache inside me. Because even though we did all that, I can't shake this pit in my gut that Carson is still hiding things from me.

We sit on the couch while Nolan is sprawled over the armchair. Mom is cleaning dishes in the kitchen, and she insisted she doesn't want help. Carson's arm is slung over my shoulder, but he keeps shifting around and tugging at the neck of his shirt like he's too hot. Like he's too restless to be here.

"You okay?" I whisper. On the screen, we're inside of Iron Man's helmet as he fights some bad guy.

"Yeah," Carson says. "Actually, I think I need a smoke. Be right back?"

"Oh, okay." I shift off him, and he's out of the apartment in seconds.

"Is he good?" Nolan asks. "He seems a little weird."

"You noticed that, huh?" I say. "He's okay. Don't worry. He'll be right back."

Nolan yawns and pauses the movie. "I need a break anyway."

We turn on the lights and stretch. Nolan goes into the kitchen and pours himself a glass of root beer. He peeks out the window and asks, "Did you invite Uncle Graham over, Jill?"

"What?"

Mom and I exchange a look before Mom drops her dishes and rushes over to the window with me. Sure enough, Dad stands below and smokes a cigarette with Carson under the light of a streetlamp.

"Bastard," I spit and tear out of the apartment, my feet thumping down the stairs until I reach the main floor. I burst into the warm spring night.

"Baby!" Dad says.

"Dad, what the hell? I asked you not to come around here!"

Mom pops up behind me. When Dad sees her, he goes bug-eyed before his regular careless asshole Graham Grant demeanor slides on.

"I was just poppin' by to see you guys when I saw Carson over here." Dad grabs Carson's shoulder. "He looks so much like his daddy, it's hard to believe I'm not standin' with Kevin Blue himself. God, I miss that sonuvabitch."

Carson is pale and jittery. He won't look at me.

"Graham, you need to leave our property," Mom says. "Now, please."

Dad takes a single step back onto the sidewalk, outstretching his arms. "Better?"

"Mom, come on," I say. "Forget him. Let's go in."

I turn her away from him, just as Nolan comes outside. "Uncle Graham!" I try to stop him, but Nolan forces past me and dives right at Dad.

"There you are, kid!" Dad hugs Nolan. "I was wonderin' when I was gonna get to see you."

"You aren't supposed to see him," Mom says, her voice shaking. "Nolan, come on. Back inside. Please."

"Aw, c'mon, Sharon," Dad says. "Just lemme hang out with him!"

"No!"

Nolan protests, but Mom and I work together to get Dad away from him. Mom ushers Nolan inside, and I face Dad, my body in tremors.

"Please, Dad. We just got approval from our caseworker, but nothing's been finalized. We can't afford to have you hanging around. If they find out someone like you is around someone like Nolan, it could destroy everything. Don't you get it? If you keep coming around, you're going to ruin our lives. Again. Just please, please stay away from us."

Something shatters in Dad's eyes, like my words have truly wounded him. A small, repressed part of me might even care how he feels; but what I said was true. I go back inside, where Mom and Nolan talk beside the bar.

"Why can't I see him?" Nolan whines. "He's actually cool."

"He's not cool, Nolan," I say. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"If you can't listen to your cousin, listen to me," Mom says, gently, as always. "We're doing this to protect you, Nolan. Now go upstairs and finish your movie."

After a childish huff, Nolan storms upstairs and slams the door behind him, reminding me that he may have hit his growth spurt early, but Nolan is still very much a kid.

I fall into a seat and rub my temples. When I open my eyes, I look around the dark diner. "Mom? Where's Carson?"

We glance around. Nothing. Mom even calls out his name. No reply.

"I thought he was behind me," I say, but no, I assumed he was, because why would he stay out there?

My pulse clamors as I slam through the doors to outside.

The street is empty.

Both Carson and Dad are gone.