I pull my coat tighter around my body as we step out of the diner. We've been lucky the last couple of days, but winter always keeps its grip pretty tight on Susquehanna, even this late into March. The pale sunlight trying to break through the overcast is no match for the bite of the wind whipping through the parking lot.

My cheeks feel especially raw, still damp with tears. After Ben blew out his candles, I excused myself to pull a Dad and cry in the bathroom. I'm pissed that my mom — Emily — still has an affect on me at all, but it wasn't really her I was crying about. I've been faced with plenty of lies in the last few days; none have hurt the same as learning my life was the biggest one of all.

It's just Ben and I, and even though neither of us say anything, we both know to stop and teeter on the edge of the sidewalk. It feels like just yesterday that we'd sit out here after meals, throwing rocks across the asphalt to see whose went the farthest. Rule of thumb was always to stay out of the way, so this became the spot to wait while our parents paid.

His parents.

I sniff against tears that threaten to perform an encore. "So, what? This makes you my—"

"Brother," Ben says firmly.

I nod, using my coat sleeve to wipe under my eyes. Despite everything, a small smile tugs at my lips. "Damn, and here I thought this was my chance to finally get rid of you."

He lets out a shaky laugh. "Hate to break it to you, but you're stuck with me for life." Ben's eyes shift to a spot behind me, his smile fading. "But I'm not the only one who's still your family, Amber."

I don't bother turning around. I can picture Dad just fine, standing at the counter to pay, his movements slow and unhurried as always. After coming back from the bathroom, I walked straight past the booth without a word and stood by the door until Ben joined me. A small part of me is still hoping Carter will get here before he's finished paying.

"He lied to me." I hate the fact that I'm getting used to saying that.

"I know he did. I also know he'd change the past if he could."

That shuts me up, the words hitting a little too close to home.

Ben sighs, sending a puff of vapor spiraling through the frigid air. "Look, I understand what you're feeling. I remember how she treated you, and I also remember him saying nothing about it. But Am, it's been almost eight years since you've talked to Dad. After high school, you stopped staying at the house with us and spent all your holidays next door with Carter. He's missed everything. Your college graduation, your wedding — hell, he's never even met Brynn. What he did was wrong, but I think he's been punished long enough for it. Don't you?"

A bell behind us saves me from answering. I glance over my shoulder and find Dad standing near the door, shuffling from foot to foot. He looks between the two of us.

"I'm, uh- I'll just go grab the car." Dad starts to move around us, but Ben holds his hand up for the keys.

"Toss em, Dad, I got it." When he doesn't throw them right away, Ben wiggles his fingers. "Seriously, with the way your vision's going, I have a better chance of finding it anyway."

There's just the right amount of tease to it that Dad visibly relaxes. Even in adulthood, Ben still knows exactly what to say, a gene that definitely wasn't passed down to me. Must be from Dad's side of the family.

Ben catches the keys, then pulls me into a tight hug. "I'm gonna drop him off at the hotel, maybe catch a quick nap, then swing back by the house later today. We can talk about this as much or as little as you want. Or just get drunk, honestly. Your call."

I nod against his shoulder. "Most likely the drunk option. We'll blame it on your birthday."

Before he lets go, Ben leans down to whisper in my ear.

"Talk to him. Forgive and forget, as they say. You're technically halfway there."

I push him off, rolling my eyes good naturedly. "Since when are you the big sibling?"

Ben gestures to our drastic height difference. "Since puberty."

He ruffles my hair, then jogs off, leaving Dad and me on our own. We're an awkward distance away from each other, but we both seem stuck. I know for sure Dad is; I can tell by the way he stares pointedly at his feet, something he does when he's at a loss for words. He does it pretty often.

But I'm right there with him this time. He's never been the person I've gone to for comfort, mostly because I always felt he was always on Emily's side. Standing across from him now, I feel like I'm meeting a complete stranger and scrambling for a conversation starter.

"I don't know what to say to you," I admit, thinking it best to be as blunt as possible.

"Me neither," he says softly. "You'd think I would by now. I've had enough time to think about it."

I kick my shoe against the side of the curb. "So why don't you?"

Stuffing his hands deep in his coat pockets, he moves closer to me, his steps a bit uncertain. A strong gust of wind carries the smell of his cologne the last few feet between us, hitting me with a surprising feeling of nostalgia. It almost makes me lose my composure all over again.

"Because even with all that time, it still wasn't long enough to find the words that described how sorry I was — am. Above all else, that's what I want you to know. I'm sorry I let what happened between Emily and I get in the way of being a good father to you. You didn't deserve to be lied to, and I know I don't deserve your forgiveness—"

"Don't say that." I pull my arms tighter around my midsection. "Everyone deserves forgiveness."

Another step. He's only a foot away now, close enough that I can hug him if I want to. I haven't gotten any taller since high school, so standing next to him is just like I remember. It makes me feel young again, something I haven't felt in awhile. Instinctively, I shift my weight so I'm leaning towards him. I'm still mad, but it's a dull throb at this point. Tolerable.

"Not telling me was wrong," I push on, my voice getting thicker after each word. "Not defending me was even worse. And I know I should hate you, throw a fit, and never talk to you again because it's what I did last time, but I can't, Dad, I really can't. I feel like I've lost so much already. Time, people — shit, my fucking sanity at this point."

"Language." I think his warning surprises us both. It's barely there, but I catch the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The scolding is so classically him that it actually makes me feel better. More normal. "Sorry. And I know you are, too. Even if you don't have words to say how much, just knowing you are is enough for me right now. That doesn't mean we're okay, not by a long shot. It just means there is in fact a shot."

For the first time all morning, there's light in his eyes. They glisten with tears as he studies my face, waiting to see if I'll take it back. "That's more than I could ever ask for, Amber."

Taking a shuddered breath, I build up my nerve. "Can I ask for something too?"

"Anything."

I wouldn't be surprised if he meant it literally, but there's only one thing I really want. Biting my lip does nothing to stop the tears this time. "Can you just hold me for a minute?"

There's no uncertainty when he puts his arms around me. "I'll hold you as long as you let me."

I can't remember the last time I hugged my father. In fact, it almost feels strange. Nonetheless, I bury my face in his shoulder, reveling in the feeling of safety. It just drives Ben's point home further. Despite the lies and lack of blood ties, he's still my dad. And right now, a sane parent is what I need.

I can only imagine what the diner patrons must think of the crazy people crying on the sidewalk, but I also couldn't care less. A car actually honks at us as it sidles up to the curb, but when I look up to curse the asshole out, I find sane parent number two — well, parent-in-law.

"Oh sorry, I didn't realize," Julia stammers through the open car window, her eyes locking onto Dad. "Gosh, I thought you were Ben, Daniel."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Dad chuckles, sniffing back his tears. He kisses me softly on the forehead, then lets me go. "It's nice to see you, Jules. How's Henry doing? The boys?"

"Well, you know Henry, the man never sits down. I'll let him know I saw you and give him your best. Kids are good, too." The smile she gives him is a sad one, her gaze dancing over to me briefly. "It's good to see you too, Dan. Especially you two together."

"Where's Carter? He said earlier he was gonna pick me up." Dad opens the car door for me and waits till I'm secured in the passenger seat before closing it again.

"He caught me right as I was heading out the door. I was already going to the store, so we figured I might as well save him the trip and pick you up on my way."

"Umm, Amber," Dad leans in through the open window, his look cautious, "If it's not too soon for you, maybe we can grab coffee in the morning before my train home? Give us some time to catch up."

I only consider it for a second. "Sure. Coffee." Then, as an afterthought, "Maybe I'll bring Brynn along, too. If that's okay."

Finally, he gives me a real smile, one that actually reaches his eyes. "I'd love that."

Before he turns into a blubbering mess again, Dad taps on my windowsill, then steps back from the curb. I wave as Julia pulls out of the lot, watching him in the side mirror until I see Ben come around the front with the car. Then, they both disappear from view.

"So, how was breakfast?" Julia readjusts her rearview mirror, glancing furtively at me. She's aiming for casual, but it's hard to downplay a loaded question like that one.

Leaning back against the seat, I pull my knees up to my chest. "I genuinely do not know how to answer that. Check back in when my head stops spinning from it."

"I'm not surprised. From what you've told me, Callie can be a handful." She reaches over and rubs my back, maneuvering the car with one hand. "But if the only thing you gained from it was talking to your dad again, I'd still call that a success, wouldn't you?"

I shrug. Success seems a bit too optimistic, but I guess it wasn't a total failure, either.

Julia gives me a soft smile, then resituates back on her side of the car. She turns her attention to the road, but mine stays on her. She's wearing even less makeup than usual today, a sign that she really was planning for a quick morning errand. If it were anyone else, I'd feel bad disrupting their day, but not Julia. She lives for her kids, and after marrying Carter, I've been blessed enough to become one of them. Nothing makes me believe she'd ever do anything to hurt me, but after breakfast, I have to know.

"Did you know about Callie?" I ask quietly, not lifting my head up. Too much effort. "About me?"

She sighs. "I knew she existed, but nothing beyond that. Emily didn't open up much, but she did tell me about her childhood with Callie. It's what brought us closer together in the beginning, if you can believe it. But no, she never told me who Callie really was to you. Sometimes, I wonder if things might've been different if she did."

I'm torn about that. Honestly, I think Julia's giving herself a little too much credit. She's amazing, but it would take a deal with the devil to change the relationship I have with my mom. It's hard for me to sympathize about Callie ruining her life when she spent my whole life taking it out on me.

"Oh, before I forget," pulling up to a red light, Julia reaches behind herself and grasps blindly around the backseat, "I ran into Charlie too as he was getting back from Philly. He said you left this in the car."

She finds her purse just as the light turns green. Without looking, she pulls it into her lap and rummages around the contents, then holds up Mark's phone.

She might as well have hit me with a taser. Jolting upright, I nearly snatch it out of her hands, earning me a weird look.

"Sorry, uh, do you mind if I look through this for a second? I know we were talking, but—"

She waves me off. "Take your time, I have to make a call anyway. Henry and I are supposed to meet up for lunch in a couple hours and knowing him, he's already forgotten."

I've mostly tuned her out already, so I just nod. Normally I'd feel bad about it, but the phone drives away any thoughts that don't pertain to Mark. The last twenty four hours have been a whirlwind, but even with the doubts I voiced to Carter in bed, I'm ready to refocus back on Darren's party. Better to be prepared and wrong than helpless and right.

Unlike newer phones, Mark's doesn't have a passcode, but before I can start looking through it, the screen flashes with notifications: ten new texts and almost five hundred voicemails. Deciding it best to start with the smaller group first, I open his inbox and scroll down to the date of the party. It doesn't take long, and my hands are practically shaking by time I get to the first message.

Surprise, surprise, it's from me. In fact, I account for five of the unopened texts, all but one of them sent right after midnight that night. Skimming over those briefly, it's clear they're from after I found out about his death. Paragraphs of me denying, begging, pleading for him to answer my calls fill up the screen. There's only one message from earlier in the day, a request from me to meet and talk, presumably about the fight at the log. It's time stamped at 5:43 pm, but just like the others, it's unanswered.

Does that mean he was still alive then, or did I just not hear about it until later? Shit, would he even have been at Darren's that early? I realize I've been investigating this party without even knowing what time it started. Wracking my brain, I try to remember if Chloe mentioned it when she originally suggested we go, but I draw a blank. I can only hope either she or Carter still remembers now.

Fighting against my growing frustration, I keep scrolling. There's a text from Chloe asking where he is and if I'm with him timed right around ten, followed by another text from an unknown number. Opening it, I find the same message as Chloe's with an added disclaimer at the top:

570-555-9762: txting from Toris phne. mine XP

Well, that was one way to tip us off about Tori.

But this confirms neither of them saw him, even this late into the party. Tori said they were busy getting caught by Jane in an empty bedroom, but was that before or after Chloe got suspicious of where we were? How long were they at Darren's before that? I start to make a mental list of all the gaps we still need to fill in, and I'm itching to get back to the timeline. I'm tempted to ask Julia to drop me off before she goes to the store, but I've delayed her so much already. It's been empty this long — an extra hour or two won't hurt.

I'm just about to close the phone, deciding to test my newfound patience and wait until everyone's together, but a name towards the bottom turns my fingers to stone. A message from Darren shouldn't be shocking, considering it only backs up what we've been thinking from the start, but seeing it in writing is different. Three unopened texts, spread out over the day, the most recent one around eight that night:

Darren: get here. now.

Then, an hour earlier:

Darren: where r u.

And finally, right around noon that day:

Darren: change of plan. ur in on deal. come clean.

I technically know all the words I'm reading, but they make no logical sense. Why would Darren care so much about Mark being at his party? Surely there were other people buying that night. Searching back further in their messaging history, there's only more cryptic texts from the weeks leading up to that Saturday, each stating a meeting point and when to be there. They're all signed off with the same two words.

Darren: point b. after skool. come clean.

Darren: point c. eleven. come clean.

"Alright, dinner then, but don't let him bring you back too late. We're going somewhere nice to make it up to me." Julia tosses her phone back in the cup holder. "Lo and behold, I've been forgotten. Charlie stole my date and took him out to the sports bar downtown. Typical. Wanna take our time and stop for manicures? It's been awhile since we've had a girls day."

My skin burns hot from the anxiety seeping through my pores. Barely registering Julia's said anything, I close out of Mark's inbox and go straight for the voicemails. I click past the ones from me as fast as I can, combing through years of unheard messages all the way back to August, 2008. My thumb is a blur as I move down the list until I find what I'm looking for.

Julia leans forward to check her blind spot as she pulls the car onto the freeway. "But I also understand if you're not up for it, so no pressure. We can just run the errand to Costco and head home. I just have to grab toilet paper, dish soap- oh shoot, I hope I brought my list..."

Everything fades into the background when I stop on Darren's name, the message time stamped at 8:42 pm. The phone trembles in my hand so bad I almost drop it, my vision zeroing in on the play button. Before I have a chance to chicken out, I hold the phone up to my ear.

"I swear to God Anderson, if you don't get here in the next ten minutes with the supply, we're fucked. It wasn't my decision, alright, but you're gonna be fine. We both are, so just get here- shit, there you are. Mark, what the fu—"

And the message ends there.

"... I forgot how much that husband of yours can eat. I can only imagine what your grocery bill is in the city." When she notices I still haven't said anything, she rests a hand on my back again. "Amber?"

I flinch so hard it makes Julia swerve the car. She ignores the honks from behind us, splitting her focus between me and driving straight.

"Honey, talk to me, what's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry, but I need you to get off the highway." Closing the message, I dial Carter's number frantically.

"What?"

"Girls day out is gonna have to wait a little longer. I need you to take me home, now."

I throw the car door open before Julia has time to park.

"Amber, be careful! What is going on? You're scaring me now."

"Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system—"

"I know, but I don't have time to explain it to you. I just really need to talk to Carter." I hang up my sixth call to him and slam the car door behind me. "Everyone's fine, I promise. Just go and I'll tell you when you come back!"

She studies me hesitantly, her hand resting on the ignition. "Are you sure? Costco can wait—"

I dash up her front lawn without another word.

Taking the porch steps two at a time, I nearly slip on ice that's solidified overnight. I reach for the doorknob to catch myself, only for it to swing inward when I grab it. Regaining my balance at the last second, I steady myself and stare at the door, my heart in my throat. Someone left it open, and my bet isn't on Julia.

I move to go inside, then freeze halfway across the threshold. Unease churns in my stomach. Glancing back over my shoulder, I find the driveway empty; Julia's gone, and I instantly regret sending her away. Alarm bells are going off in my head, urging me not to walk through the door.

"Listen, let's just talk it out. Things don't have to be like this."

"Carter!" I shout at the sound of his voice. Ignoring the bells, I rush through the front door and turn straight into the sitting room. "We were right, holy shit, we were right. Darren did see Mark that night, and I think Mark was—"

"Go back outside, Amber."

Carter's sitting in one of the armchairs on the farside of the room, back rod straight. The look on his face stops me dead in my tracks.

"Finally." Darren's voice is scarily quiet, but he doesn't lift his head at the sound of mine. "You're here."

He's in the chair across from Carter, but I wouldn't say he's sitting. Darren slumps heavily over his lap, his body swaying like he can't stay still. He looks even thinner than the last time I saw him, and his skin is white as a sheet. His arms are wrapped tightly around his midsection, hands tucked under his coat; from this angle, it almost looks like he's wearing a straight jacket.

"What's he doing here?" I ask, shifting my gaze back to Carter. My next question is silent, and I can only hope he understands it.

Where's Brynn?

"Go." Carter keeps his voice low. "Whatever he needs to say he can say to me alone." Subtly, he glances towards the ceiling.

Upstairs.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to come," Darren rambles on, his speech... off. "Had ends to tie up. Assets to move. Memories to destroy."

"Like texts?" I ask, stepping closer to them both. "It's too late for that, Darren. I found Mark's phone. I know you messaged him that night, and I know you were messaging him for weeks before that. Mark was pushing drugs for you, wasn't he?"

"Amber, he's not coherent." Carter still hasn't moved a muscle. He glances at me from the corner of his eye. "I mean it, go back outside."

"I tried to help." Darren cocks his neck to the side, finally exposing his face. Even from the entryway, I can see it in his eyes. His pupils are pinpoints, the whites of his eyes bloodshot. He can't seem to focus on one thing, his gaze wobbling back and forth between me and the chandelier above my head. "Only meant to help."

"How the hell was turning him into a drug dealer and getting him hooked on coke supposed to help? You were the last thing Mark needed."

"Amber, stop yelling at him," Carter grits out, but I ignore him. My anger is too far gone at this point; sober or not, Darren deserves everything I have to say.

"He needed real help, and you took advantage of that. Let me guess, Mark was in it for the money, and who's easier to manipulate than someone desperate, right?"

"I told him to come clean," Darren whispers. "He didn't come clean."

"Enough with the riddles, alright? Skip to the part where you explain what the hell that means. It's in every text you sent him. What did Mark need to come clean about?"

Darren stares in my direction, but I can't tell if he's actually looking at me. His response time is sluggish and slow, and he's higher than I've ever seen him. What kind of weed are they making nowadays?

"I told him he wouldn't have to do it that night, but things changed. He said it had to be two. Rules are rules. But Mark never got my message. He didn't come clean."

"What are you trying to tell us, Darren?" Carter seems to have given up on making me leave, but still doesn't relax. "Take your time, we're listening."

"Um, fuck that, tell us right now." I shoot Carter a sharp look, but he just gestures to Darren with his eyes. If he's trying to tell me something, his message isn't coming across any clearer than Darren's.

"Come clean — the number one rule. He knew why we had it. 'We try before you buy'. To prove our supply was safe." Darren snorts, his head lulling back down over his knees. "Safe. We were never safe that night. One try, that's all it took."

My skin prickles. "Mark's autopsy... the heroin. It wasn't in his system because he bought it." I turn to Carter. "It's because he was selling it."

"He wasn't clean," he adds, realization dawning in his eyes. "Mark tested the heroin with coke still in his system. That's what made him overdose."

"It all happened so fast." Darren's focus is locked on the floor. He rocks back and forth, so hard I'm afraid he's gonna fall out of the chair. "Only trying to help. They were buying in bulk and paying upfront. One deal and he'd be set for weeks. All it costed was one little prick. That's what I told him. One... little... prick."

Through the black blurring my vision, I see Darren in a new light. Have his lips been that white this entire time? And even with his head down, I can see his eyes are slits, barely open.

"Is that what you did today?" I can barely hear myself over the rushing in my ears. "One little prick?"

Finally, he lifts his head; it wobbles like it's too heavy for his neck. He jerks like he's about to get up, making Carter move for the first time since I got here.

He jumps to his feet. "Darren, this isn't what you wanna do."

His eyes flicker between him and me, as if he's trying to decide who he should go to first. It only confuses me further. Carter's acting like Darren's ready to attack, but I doubt Darren could stand right now if he tried.

"One prick isn't enough anymore. Didn't take enough..." Darren mumbles. His face doesn't change as a tear rolls down his cheek. "Good thing I brought this."

His hands drop out from under his coat and rest at his sides. In the right one sits a sleek, black grip, the gleam of the barrel blinding. I thought the gun was terrifying sitting in the drawer, but it doesn't compare to seeing Darren with it now. He lets the gun rest against the hardwood floor, his finger caressing the trigger.

"Carter, get over here." Fear pinches my windpipe, making the words come out high and squeaky. He's standing way too close to the gun for my liking, and the last thing I need is him playing the hero to defend me.

"Darren, it was an accident," Carter assures, his tone steady even as Darren pulls the gun into his lap. "He just didn't get the message. You tried to warn him, this isn't your fault—"

"Like hell it isn't!" I take a step towards them, but a sharp move from Darren makes me stagger back. "I swear to God, Darren, if you fucking hurt him—"

"Stay there," Carter shouts, a vein popping in his neck. "He's not gonna hurt me!"

Darren doesn't flinch. I'm expecting him to point the gun at Carter for being too close, or me for cursing him out.

Instead, the same smile from his office takes over his face, his lips cracking from the effort to keep it there. It stays plastered on as he rests the end of the barrel under his chin.

"He's right. I'm not gonna hurt him, Amber." Darren cocks the gun, then looks me straight in the eye. "I'm never gonna hurt anyone ever again."