Even before I open my eyes, I feel the empty space in bed beside me.

The sheets are too cold without his heat. My body is already in withdrawals from not having his arms around me. Squeezing my eyes shut against hot tears, I bite down on my lip to help muffle my cries. I have no idea who else is in the house, and the last thing I want is to draw attention to myself. There's not a person on earth I want to see right now.

The only thing helping is the smell of my own room. As awful as this feels, waking up in his bed would've been ten times worse. I say a silent thank you to whoever put me here instead; if I had to guess, a certain lesbian was involved.

At the sound of the doorbell, I throw the comforter over my head, wrapping it around myself like a cacoon. I haven't even begun to process what happened, so the idea of explaining it to everyone — to his parents — makes me physically ill.

I silently count the seconds, waiting for another ring, but the house stays quiet minus the sound of footsteps on the stairs. They come to a stop just outside my door, followed by a light knock.

"Amber, honey, you doing ok?"

Dad's deep baritone penetrates through my armor, asking the stupidest question I've ever heard. I wouldn't be surprised if Ben's here too, both of them standing by in case I need them.

I don't respond.

Reality starts to crash its way in, and I push my face into the pillows to try and drown it out. I'm desperate to slip back into unconsciousness, just for another shot at a vision with Carter, but something nudges my shoulder through the covers. Going still, I wait a second longer until it happens again, this time more persistent. When I peek my head out, I'm expecting maybe Brynn, but instead come face to face with a pair of yellow eyes — surrounded by a mask of black fur.

There's a delay in comprehension as I stare at the cat before it hits me like a subway train.

"Vendetta?" I whisper in disbelief.

"It's almost six and you've been in here all day." Dad's still talking, completely oblivious. "Mom's almost done making dinner."

Vendetta nuzzles against my cheek, cancelling out questions of if she's real or not. I jolt upright and scan my room critically, taking in the clutter that wasn't here before: dirty clothes, discarded trash — school textbooks. Under the covers, my fingers skim the hem of my favorite denim shorts, the ones that landed me in detention in the first place.

Heart hammering in my chest, I spring up from bed and dash across the room to my dresser. Gripping the edges, I stare at my reflection, one I had almost forgotten. Fuller cheeks, shorter hair, and skin baby smooth, my younger face stares back at me in awe.

My fingers slide over the glass, outlining each feature. "I'm back."

Then, much louder:

"Holy shit, I'm back!"

Joy bubbles up in my chest as I smile at my reflection through fresh tears. I run my hands through my hair, over my face, down my body, unable to tear my eyes away from the mirror. I'm terrified it'll all disappear if I so much as blink.

But then — a flicker of gold catches my eye from the window.

He's taking his time getting out of his truck, the keys stuck in the ignition again. It's parked on the street instead of the driveway, something he only does when he's going back out. Relief washes over me at the sight of him, but something about outside makes my stomach drop. Stark shadows make it hard to see Carter's face, yet his hair is bathed in light, the strands practically orange. Through the mirror, the digital clock on my bedside table blinks back the time and date in a harsh, violent red.

5:46pm

Sat, Aug, 30

"I'll take laughter as a sign that you're good. In that case, come downstairs, it's your turn to set the— Jesus, what was that?"

Dad cuts off at the faint sound of breaking glass, and all at once, I know exactly where Carter's going tonight.

Racing over to the window, I throw it open just as he pulls his keys loose. "Carter!"

They go flying in a perfect arc, landing in Mom's rose bushes about five feet away. Whipping around to stare up at my house, he gives me an agitated look. "Damn it, Amber," he shouts back. "What the hell's the matter?"

"Wait right there, I'm coming down!"

"You could've just said that instead of—"

I slam the window shut and bolt over to my door. When I swing it open, Dad's gone, leaving the hallway clear for me to fly down. Spinning around the corner bannister, I'm ready to take the stairs three at a time, but I catch a certain eavesdropper sitting at the top of them instead.

A much younger Ben is crouched down so our parents won't see him, but based on the chaos, his efforts are for nothing. Dad's hovering on the bottom step, his hair noticeably less grey, trying and failing to get Emily to calm down. From up here, I can see the vein popping in her neck with the strain of screaming, but the person on the receiving end doesn't so much as flinch. Then again, Callie didn't strike me as the flinching type when I met her.

She's the spitting image of me just yesterday, to a point that it's almost scary. Squaring her shoulders, Callie fixes Emily with a look of contempt, one I've made a thousand times.

"Her name matters to me, Emmie, and it's about damn time I knew it. I mean, do you know how fucked up it is that I don't know my own daughter's name?"

"It's Amber."

I scare Ben so bad he hits his knee on the bannister, pulling everyone's attention up to us. He swears under his breath as I barrel down the steps, so fast I'm practically sliding. Reaching the bottom, I hop over the broken bowl of spaghetti at Emily's feet, brushing past her without a word.

"Amber." I don't think I've ever seen her so shocked in my life. Her eyes are saucers as she watches me grab my shoes, while Dad gapes openly in horror. Stopping near the door, I kneel down and start pulling the sneakers on, ignoring both of them.

"Honey, wait," Dad pleads once he finds his voice again. "We can explain this."

"No need," I say evenly. "Already got the full recap from Callie. Abandoned at birth, raised by a makeshift family, told a bunch of lies my whole life — I'm good on explanations."

"You've been communicating with her?" Emily shouts, moving to stand between me and the door. "God, Callie, must you always be so damn selfish? How dare you tell her behind our backs. You had no right!"

"Ok, first, yeah the hell I would've," Callie retorts, but when I straighten again, I find her studying me hard. "Second, this is the first time we've ever talked. Something tells me a good night's sleep did all the work for me."

"Move," I say flatly, meeting Emily's eyes despite the rage burning behind them.

She jerks back like I've slapped her. "Excuse me?"

"Get out of our way," I glance over at Callie, then gesture to the door, "We're leaving."

Her face floods with indignation. "You're not taking another damn step. I don't know who the hell you think you're talking to, but let me go ahead and remind you. I am your—"

"Nothing." The word cracks the air like a whip, powered by years of resentment. "You are nothing to me. Not my mother. Not my aunt. No one."

I'm surprised she hasn't had a heart attack already. She looks like I just took a shit on her Blackberry. Barreling on, I take advantage of her silence. "There is no excuse for what you did to me. No explanation you could give that would make me forgive you. Because the truth is, I know what it's like to wake up in a life I never asked for. I know what it's like to feel trapped. And weirdly enough, I know what it's like to suddenly become a mother."

I push away thoughts of Brynn before they can shake me up. Deep down, I know the chances are slim of ever seeing her again, even when Carter and I eventually have kids. Thankfully, the clock in the den chimes out the hour, reminding me I'm on a tight timeline. I can't waste anymore time on this — on Emily.

"But I also know blaming me was a choice, one I never would've made. You chose to take out your miserable life on me, but now I'm choosing to stop you. So, you're gonna move out of my way, you're gonna let me go, then you're gonna get the hell out of my life. We both know it's what you want to do anyway."

There's a beat of silence between all of us until someone finally breaks it.

"Holy shit," Callie whispers out the side of her mouth. Somewhere behind me, I think I hear Ben say it too.

"Move, Emily," Dad says firmly.

She levels me with a look I can't read, but I'm surprised to find less anger than before. Studying every feature of my face, she doesn't make an attempt to move. If she thinks I'm above tackling her out of the way, she's painfully mistaken.

Just as I'm considering grabbing her shoulders, she sweeps hateful eyes over to Callie. "You think you would've been better off with her? Find out for yourself, Amber. She'll ruin you like everything else. It's what she does."

Then, she steps out of my way.

I wrench the door open, not caring if it hits Mom on my way out. Without knowing if Callie's behind me or not, I jump down the porch steps and run flat out towards a beacon of red.

Carter's leaning against his truck, arms crossed and bits of leaves stuck in his hair. The sound of my shoes slapping the pavement pulls his attention from the ground, and when his eyes meet mine, it's like I can't get to him fast enough. I know there's a clock we're working against, but after the last twenty four hours, there's something I have to do first.

He holds up his keys. "Ok, I'm gonna look past the cuts I got from digging in the bushes because there's more important things we need to talk about."

Pushing off the ground, I throw myself into his unexpecting arms and crash my lips down on his.

The stubble I'm used to is gone, but his mouth is still blissfully the same. It takes less than a second for him to kiss me back. There's a desperation to it on both our parts that makes my stomach dip, and isn't long before he pulls at my bottom lip, coaxing me to open up to him more. We don't have time, but every muscle in my body refuses to pull away. Thankfully Carter does first, resting his forehead against mine.

"Ok, I really do not want to stop," he says breathlessly, his eyes shifting to something over my shoulder, "but there's a lady staring at us."

Sure enough, Callie's standing about a foot away from the truck, casually watching as we make out.

"Is this what you wanted me to see?" she asks, eyeing up Carter from head to toe. "Because if you're looking for some kind of motherly approval, you've got it babycakes."

I take a reluctant step away from him, but intertwine my fingers with his. "Shit, sorry. Forgot she was there."

Callie smirks. "No kidding."

"Carter, my real mom, Callie—"

His brow furrows. "Wait, your what—"

"—Callie, my boyfriend, Carter."

"—wait, your what?" His head snaps back and forth between us.

"I know you came here to tell me something," I say to Callie, cutting straight to the point. There's no time to walk Carter through everything; history has proven it takes too long. "Was there anything else besides the truth about you and your sister?"

"Nope, that was all! Not sure why they needed me to tell you anything if they were just gonna do it themselves," she mumbles, then smiles brightly. "But at least we got a reunion out of it — and I got to watch you rip Emmie a new asshole. Making your mama proud already."

Heart sinking, I pull Carter back over to the truck. Part of me hoped she held another piece to the puzzle, because right now, I still don't know where to start. Fighting against the oncoming hysterics, I focus back on the last vision with Mark. He said I have everything I need already, but at the moment, I'm finding it really hard to believe him.

You did good, Amber. So, so good.

"Are you gonna tell me why you think that woman is your mom?" When I hop in the passenger seat of the truck, his brow knits even more. "Or where we're going?"

"Darren's," I say brusquely, buckling my seatbelt. "There's no time to look anywhere else."

"Great, my first highschool party!" Ben says excitedly, appearing out of thin air. "Good thing I'm wearing my nice jeans."

The truck rocks as Carter jumps into the driver's seat, then shoots me a furtive look. "Is he actually coming with us? I was kinda hoping we could talk about things," he glances back over at Callie now sitting on the curb, "and that list is kinda growing."

"You're not leaving me with them," Ben says through my open door, hiking a thumb towards our house. "Whatever the heck just happened in there, I'm not dealing with it alone. Talking's gonna have to wait."

Running it over in my head, I nod towards the backseat. "Get in, I'll need all the eyes I can get."

"Don't know what that means, but alright." Ben yanks the door open and slips inside, but Carter doesn't turn the key.

"You gotta help me out here, Amber," he says, glancing back at Ben before lowering his voice. "Last night, you couldn't get away from me fast enough, now you're commandeering my car and calling me your boyfriend. Not that I'm complaining, or denying it, or— look, just tell me what's going on, ok? I wanna know where your head's at."

Reaching across the seat, I take his hand in mine."There is so much I want to tell you, Carter." I drink in every inch of him, running my fingers up his wrist to feel his steady pulse. "But right now, talking has to wait. Mark's our number one priority for the next three hours, but after that, you will be mine. Because out of all the things I wanna say to you, number one is that I love you. Oh, and you better not leave me ever again, or I will kill you myself."

A mixture of emotions flashes over Carter's face — confusion being the most prevalent — but the happiness he lands on takes my breath away. Instead of replying, he reaches over to cup my cheek and pull me in for a kiss.

Our lips barely brush before Ben clears his throat. "Ok, maybe I will deal with Mom and Dad if this is my other option."

Carter snorts, pecks me quickly, then wipes under his eyes and settles back in his seat. "Sorry. We'll finish this talk later, after the party at Darren's."

Ben whoops as the engine revs, but Callie steps in front of the truck, making Carter slam on the brakes.

"Sorry, sorry, one more thing." Holding her hands up sheepishly, she pulls my door open. This version of the window is still broken. "Make sure you eat something if you're gonna be drinking. Nothing worse than throwing up on an empty stomach. Like one time, I—"

"Not gonna be an issue, thanks." I slam the door and hit the lock, then snap my attention back to Carter. "If she tries to step in front of us again, hit her."

"Hey this is Mark. You know what to do when that phone go-" Beep.

I hang up and redial for the third time since turning off our street. My phone was thankfully stuffed deep in my pockets instead of inside the house. Hopefully it's a sign that everything else will go just as smoothly.

"He's not at work," Carter says. "That's where I just came from. I was actually looking for him, too."

"You were?" I ask a bit too eagerly. It's taking everything in me not to reach my foot over and press the gas pedal flat against the floor. "Why?"

"Same reason I was trying to talk to you. Well, not exactly the same, but about yesterday. There's, uh, things going on with him that I think we might need to worry about."

"We do." I redial again and don't elaborate further. I'm holding off telling him why we're really looking for Mark until absolutely necessary. Something just tells me he won't handle it well.

"Hey this is Mark, you know—"

I snap the phone shut. "Shit, he's not answering." Right on cue, we round the corner and I spot his street. What if we don't catch him in time? What if it takes too long to find him at the party?

"Well, let's not freak out yet." Carter glances at me to see if I'll bite his head off, then squeezes my hand. "Maybe he just doesn't have it on him right now."

"Maybe he doesn't..." Then, Ronnie's words slam back into me. It's how I got his phone in the first place.

"He left it at home. That morning..."

"Hey, what's wrong?" Carter asks, feeling my fingers tense up. We're about to pass the street.

"Turn!" I shout, leaning over to grab the wheel.

"Amber, what the fuck—"

I don't stop pulling until he spins us onto Mark's street, then slams the truck into park.

"Have you lost your mind?" Based on his expression, it's clear he thinks I have. "You nearly ran us off the road!"

"It's true what they say about your life flashing before your eyes, guys," Ben grumbles from the backseat.

"We have to go to Mark's house."

Carter pales. "We can't."

"It's where his phone is, Carter, plus Ronnie and the twins. If we don't go—"

"You don't understand," Carter insists, "I can't go there, and he wouldn't want us to, anyway. How do you know he's home, or his phone, or—"

"Listen to me," ignoring the clock on the front dash, I take a deep breath and try to slow down, "I understand, Carter, I swear I do, and I promise you we won't step a foot inside, but we have to go. Mark's family depends on it."

Something shifts in his expression. "You know about his mom?"

I nod. "Just like I know that going isn't optional. You're just gonna have to trust me on this. Can you do that? Trust me?"

Carter lets the car idle, his fingers tapping nervously against the wheel. Then, we're lurching forward, covering the last few feet to the end of the cul de sac and parking along the curb. Even unabandoned, Mark's house is in rough shape, the paint already starting to peel along the baseline. The yard is in the beginning phases of collecting garbage, but other than a few loose bags flapping in the wind, nothing stirs in or outside the house.

"Stay in the car, Ben." I go to unbuckle, but Carter's hand stops me.

"Are you sure we need his phone? Let's just go to Darren's." His eyes plead that I'll listen.

"Trust me," I say gently, moving his fingers out the way. "C'mon."

Hopping down from the truck, I wait on my side until Carter comes around the front, then grab his hand. Together we take the front walkway, his feet dragging the closer we get. When we reach the porch steps, he stops altogether.

"I-" his palm goes slick against mine as he fixates on the house.

"Wait here for me. Call Chloe and tell her to look out for Mark at the party. I can do this part alone."

He opens his mouth to argue, but this time, a look from me is enough. "Right, right, trust, just...please don't make me regret it."

Leaving him to make the call, I rush up the steps and to the door, faltering when I raise my hand to knock. Carter's recount of the falling out constricts my muscles like a python, and I'm afraid I won't be able to do it all. But then I hear Ronnie's voice again.

"That's what Emma always says. Josie's dead. Ever since the day they took us away."

Ever since today. Without me, it'll be the last day they're all together again. The memory propels my fist forward, hitting the door once, twice, three times. I can feel Carter's eyes boring into my back, tempting me to turn around, but if I move an inch, I'll take a mile and run straight to the car.

When the knob turns, I'm briefly terrified it might be Mrs. Anderson. But then, the door opens on Ronnie's tall frame and newly shaved buzz cut, leaving his blue eyes fully visible — along with the bruise around one of them.

"Amber," he says, focusing on a spot in the middle of my forehead.

"Hi, Ronnie." Smiling past the lump in my throat, I give him a quick glance over for any other signs of injury. "How are you?"

"Okay."

"Mark's not home, is he?"

Ronnie shakes his head.

"Can you tell me what time he left?"

"Five."

"This morning?"

He nods. I was afraid he was going to gesture that.

It's way too long ago to establish where Mark might be now, but I wasn't depending on Ronnie for that, anyway. Peering subtly around his shoulder, I make out nothing down the dimly lit hallway. There's only the faint smell of stale booze.

"Can you do me a favor, Ronnie? It's for Mark. He asked me to give you a message."

A shadow of excitement shrouds his face. "Okay."

"He needs you to go upstairs, grab Josie and Emma, and then come back outside. And he needs you to give me his phone."

Ronnie nods again, then stops short at the figure still standing by the steps. "Carter."

"Mhmm." I don't turn around so Ronnie's attention stays on me. "He's part of Mark's message. When you all come outside, we're gonna take you to Carter's house until Mark gets home, ok? Just for a little while."

His fingers start to tap at his sides. "Mark said?"

At the sound of movement from inside, I nod frantically. "Mark said."

He stands in the doorway for one beat. Two. Three.

"Ok."

Lumbering back into the darkness, Ronnie leaves me on the porch to wait. Morbid curiosity pulls at me, egging me on to look inside, but despite the lies he's told me, I still can't break Mark's trust. Mentally, I tell myself we'll cross that line together once this is all over. Once I'm sure he's safe.

Bounding back down the stairs, I walk right past Carter and pull the truck's backseat door open.

"Change of plan, Captain. I need you to take the Andersons to Carter's house."

"What?" Ben objects. "How did I get demoted from party guest to babysitter?"

"You know Emma and Josie, right?" I pull him down from the seat by his arm, then slam the door shut. "Ever see them in the halls at school?"

"I mean, sometimes," he shrugs, "They're sixth graders."

"Yeah, well if you don't help me out, they might never see each other again, much less the halls of your school. This is serious, Ben, and a direct order."

His face sobers up after that. Nodding solemnly, he turns to face the house. "You got it, Commander."

Carter comes to stand next to me just as Ronnie walks back into view. All three of us watch as he leads two girls by the hand, both of them wearing dresses that cling to their bodies too tightly. They look like little dolls next to Ronnie, their eyes staring blankly ahead.

"Your mom won't mind, will she?" I ask from the corner of my mouth.

Carter runs a hand over his mouth, sighing deeply. "As soon as she sees them, she'll never let them leave the house." After a long pause, he adds quietly, "Where's their dad?"

The closer the girls get, the more things stand out. Emma, distinguishable by her hack-job haircut, walks slightly behind them, favoring her left leg over her right. Once they stop in front of us, my eyes trail over the cuts running up Josie's arms, some ragged and messy — others clean and precise.

Biting at my lip, I squeeze his hand. "Not here."

"Here," Ronnie says, letting go of Josie's hand to give me Mark's phone.

"Thank you, Ronnie. My brother's going to walk you guys to Carter's house, then Mark and I will meet you there later tonight." Gripping the phone tight, I gauge his reaction. "Is that ok?"

He gives Ben a quick once over, then nods. "Ok."

"Alright everyone, hold on to your travel buddies, we're moving out!" With a wave of his hand, Ben leads Ronnie and the twins towards the main road, then calls back to me. "And by the way, we still gotta talk about you totally owning Mom back there. How have we not talked about it already?"

The faintest of smiles tugs at my lips until I catch a glimpse of the truck's dashboard. In the blink of an eye, twenty minutes have passed, the clock spinning faster and faster and—

Carter clears his throat. "Chloe says she's getting ready to head over there now. She also says call her immediately with an explanation for why you're with me instead of getting ready with her."

"Well, unless immediately means not anytime soon, she's gonna be disappointed. I've got a more important call to make."

We both get back in the truck, but once again, Carter hesitates starting it. "Is Mark in some kind of danger, Amber?"

The wheels turn in my head as I decide how much I should reveal. Carter's been cooperative so far, but now that we have a thirty minute car ride ahead of us, I know he won't hold back his questions for much longer.

I go with a half truth. "He will be if we don't find him. Or Darren."

Speaking his name into existence, I scroll onto his contact, then hit call. Carter eyes me quizzically as I hold it up to my ear.

"Darren? What's he got to do with this?"

"I'll explain on the way," I reassure him, the ringing in my ear fraying my nerves more. "We just need to get to the party before nine. I know for sure Mark will be there by then."

Of course, I don't tell him how I know that. This version of Mark's phone doesn't have Darren's voicemail on it, but the timestamp is still cemented in my memory. 8:42pm.

"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—"

"Are you almost back with the supply? I know I said two hours, but you're cuttin' it fuckin' close." Darren's real voice drowns out memories of the message, his tone much more animated than the last time I heard it.

Carter's driving again, but my body goes still. I hadn't given much thought to what I would say, and now that I have him on the phone, my mind draws a blank.

"What, did you just miss the sound of my voice? Tell me why you're calling or I'm hanging up."

"Darren, it's Amber," I blurt out. "Please don't hang up."

Another stint of silence, but the line stays open. I take it as a sign to keep going. "Listen, about tonight—"

Click.

A different silence fills my ears as the call drops. Snapping the phone closed, I find Carter watching me from the corner of his eye.

"He hung up?"

Flipping it open again, I hit redial and switch to speakerphone, the dial tone the only music in the car.

"Just keep driving," I mumble, hitting redial again when Darren sends me to voicemail. "And don't let the speedometer drop below seventy."