Amelia had harbored mixed feelings about Thanksgiving for several years—really ever since her parents had gotten divorced all the way back when she was in middle school. The first year after it'd happened, they'd tried to do Thanksgiving dinner all together anyway so that she didn't have to split the day between separate houses, but it'd resulted in her parents arguing so much that she eventually ran off and shut herself in her room. She'd been going to two Thanksgiving dinners ever since, and with her committing to going to the Caruso-Myers get-together on Friday night, this year it'd be a record three.

Henry was kind enough to reciprocate the favor by accompanying her to her mom's house on Thursday afternoon. She was actually looking forward to the food—her mother's Thanksgiving dishes were much better than the spaghetti—but almost embarrassingly nervous about everything else.

She'd been informed all of two whole days ago that her mom apparently had a boyfriend now and he would supposedly be stopping by for at least part of the day. That piece of news alone was enough to make Amelia feel rattled for a few hours after hearing it. Neither of her parents had dated much since they split, so even though a whole decade had passed, she still wasn't very acclimated to the concept of either of them being with someone else.

Did she really want to spend her afternoon hearing about her mother's boyfriend's—sorry, Tom's—seventh and eighth-grade science students, or listen to them interject one another as they recounted the story of how they met by literally running into each other at the annual PTA back to school event? No, not really. Did she get to hear about all of that anyway? Of course.

On the upside, after quite a bit of scrutinizing him, Amelia eventually came to the conclusion that she didn't see any immediate issues with Tom as a person. It was truly just the concept of him, as well as the fact that she selfishly didn't love spending a family holiday having to meet someone new, that threw her off.

The portion of the afternoon after Tom and Henry had both needed to head elsewhere, leaving only Amelia and her mother together, should have been easier. Mom, however, apparently wanted to talk about Henry.

"So, what do his parents think about all those tattoos?" she asked cooly as she dished pumpkin pie onto both of their plates.

The house was warm enough while they'd been eating together that Henry had shrugged off his jacket, which obviously shouldn't have been anything to make a fuss about, and yet here they still were. Amelia would have asked her mother if she needed some pearls to clutch if the meaning wasn't going to fly over her head entirely.

"What about them? It's not like they're of naked women or something," she dryly noted instead.

"Don't be crass, Amelia."

"They don't care what their son chooses to put on his own body and you really shouldn't either."

"It was just a question," her mom quietly sighed as if to silently say that she wasn't mad, just disappointed. "I can't help but wonder what goes through young people's minds when they make these big, permanent decisions. Tattoos stay there for the rest of your life."

Amelia's mind uncontrollably jumped straight to the tattoo he had gotten for his sister, what he'd told her about it. I wanted something that was always going to remind me of her no matter where I went, something that no one else would ever be able to take away from me.

And she badly wanted to recount that story to her mother, to hopefully teach her a lesson about not being so damn judgmental towards people she barely knew. But his trauma wasn't something that she could just toss around and use as leverage against her mom, no matter how annoyed she was with her. It wouldn't have felt right.

So all she said aloud was, "Yeah, that's kind of the whole point."

In comparison, Amelia's dinner with her dad went much more smoothly. But they were near silent as they munched on their food, her hand repeatedly straying back to the sweet potato fries.

On Christmas, you could at least distract yourself with presents if the conversation was going nowhere. Thanksgiving was all about food and football, only one of which she liked.

"You okay?" he finally asked her while they were slouched on the couch afterward, watching the game.

She nodded. "Just a little worn out. It's been a long day...you know how it goes with Mom."

"I'm sorry," he said, his eyes straying back over to her from the screen, and the sentiment sounded genuine. "Your mother and I both love you very much and always want what's best for you, even if it doesn't always come across correctly."

The overused parent speech grated on her a little bit, though she supposed she did respect that he chose not to agree with her verbatim that her mom was annoying. One of the few silver linings of that divorce was that they very rarely spoke poorly of each other in front of her.

"It's okay. There's just been a lot of other stuff going on in my life, I guess."

She simply didn't know how to be a good child while also being a grown woman. She didn't know how to ever keep them in the loop on how things were going for her when they weren't always willing to let her draw boundaries where she wanted them. What she did know was that it was a natural part of growing up, but that didn't make it any easier.

She'd left them at twenty-two, fresh out of school and wide-eyed with naivete, and then returned to this hometown of hers a year ago as an independent adult with a career. And she'd spent nearly every day since feeling like her parents still wanted her to be that girl she was when she'd moved away.

"And..." he responded with reluctance. "You're sure that dating this Henry kid is helping and not hurting?"

Amelia held back a sigh. Why did they both have to be so damn infuriating sometimes?

Amelia had her fingers crossed that dinner with Henry's family would go more smoothly.

Still, there was no denying that she was nervous about meeting Lily's parents. Though she'd seen them in passing at that search party all the way back in September and they obviously knew who she was by this point, an official introduction had never been made. She didn't know how to make conversation with them, didn't know how to ask them not to resent her for being there instead of their daughter. Did it upset them that Henry and Liam had so quickly found someone else, a stranger, to patch up the gaping hole of Lily's absence?

Henry texted her once he was just a few minutes away from her apartment to pick her up; she was anxiously picking at a hangnail on her index finger while she waited on her sofa. Her tampering with the skin naturally only made it even more irritated, but she couldn't seem to stop pinching at it despite her body's protests. She might have ended up needing to put a bandaid over it had he shown up any later than he did, but he knocked at the door just before she could yank the last of the dead skin off. As she stood up, she became acutely aware of a tiny loose thread at the hem of her shirt and had to actively force down the impulse to start fidgeting with it as well.

"Everything okay?" he asked as soon as he had one look at her.

It wasn't that she constantly wore all of her emotions on her sleeve, only that he was getting much, much better at reading her than he'd already been when they met.

She nodded. "A little bit nervous, that's all. Do I look alright?"

His lips sloped up into a smile, beautifully uninhibited. She loved that about him—that he never seemed embarrassed to be happy.

"Amelia, Amelia," his voice lightly teased her as they both, without fully recognizing what they were doing, edged further back through the doorway and into her apartment. One of his hands was holding her waist; the other dropped his car keys on the table with a quiet clinking sound so that he could touch her cheek. "Are you expecting to receive an answer other than yes one of these days?"

"I just meant do I look alright for the occasion, Henry," she protested, and a tiny giggle bubbled out of her as he kissed near the corner of her mouth as his own form of a counterargument. "But please tell me I can trust you to tell me if I ever like, have food in my teeth or toothpaste on my shirt or something else objectively atrocious."

He made a small, agreeable humming noise against her lips while he kissed her. She was choosing to take that as a yes.

Knowing that they were about to go be very social, they reveled in the sweetness of silence for most of their car ride over to the Myers' house. Once they pulled into the neighborhood, Amelia couldn't help but notice how big all of the houses seemed to be, how far the lawns sprawled. It was all beautiful in a purely aesthetic sense but gave her the same feeling of unease she experienced whenever she saw overtly luxurious things and wondered whether their prettiness justified their existence. Her nervousness must have been rolling off of her in waves because Henry pressed a comforting kiss on her cheek before getting out of the car and coming around to open her door for her.

"Liam's still coming, right?" she asked when she glanced around and realized that she didn't see his car anywhere.

"Yeah," Henry assured her. "I'm not sure what held him up, but he said he might be a few minutes late."

To her relief, his Aunt Teresa and Uncle Daniel were all smiles when they answered the door and greeted them. It hardly took any effort at all to see Teresa's resemblance to her brother—Henry's dad—and thus Henry himself. They had the same complexion, the same dark hair. But her presence was slightly more imposing somehow than her brother's, or perhaps it was simply because she had changed out of whatever clothes they'd been cooking in and into a long dress, as if this was some sort of fancy soiree.

Maybe it was. Amelia somewhat doubted that they were all that concerned with strictly following the classic Thanksgiving traditions.

She'd started to think that she was underdressed, so it was a relief to see as they stepped into the foyer that Henry's parents were there in the dining room and dressed much more casually. The long table, made out of some sort of dark wood, was already set with plates and silverware with a row of dishes lined down the center. Some of them were still covered to keep them warm until everyone arrived, but among the ones that she could see, she spotted a blend of the usual suspects—potatoes, green beans, cranberries—and some others she didn't recognize.

Just as they were sitting down and Mrs. Myers was asking if they wanted red, white, or rosé, Amelia felt her phone buzz in her pocket—and heard Henry's do the same. They shot a glance at each other before checking their screens. It was a text from Liam.

mind coming outside for a minute?

She hadn't even noticed another pair of headlights show up out front, but Henry leaned over to her as discreetly as possible and said that he'd go check on what was up. Timidly, she nodded, not really wanting to stay inside making small talk with his family on her own but knowing that they would draw a lot of attention to themselves if they both walked out as soon as they arrived.

At least she was getting booze. The most exciting drink at her mom's Thanksgiving had been apple juice (which, to be fair, was amazing in its own way). Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the slight downward tug on Jen's lips as her eyes followed her son to the door and knew that she was probably wondering where he was running off to, yet she didn't ask Amelia for any answers.

In fact, no one verbally questioned where Henry had gone even several minutes after the fact, though she knew they were all thinking the same thing. She tried not to be too concerned about it and allowed her glass to be filled with the pink, sparkling liquid, but once ten minutes had disappeared and he still hadn't reappeared, she finally decided to go see what was up.

"I'm just going to..." she excused herself shyly, nodding her head towards the front door.

She slipped away fast enough that no one could have asked her to stay even if they'd wanted to. Her eyes had grown so quickly accustomed to the golden light of the fixture hanging over the dining room table that it took her a moment to readjust to the dark outside, but once she did, she saw the boys standing in the driveway, heads slightly bent towards each other like they were arguing but trying to do it quietly.

And as soon as she noticed the piece of paper in Liam's hands, she knew what had happened.

Lily had written to them for a third time.

Amelia was muttering profanities under her breath as she jogged over to them, crossing her arms once her feet had halted beneath her. "Well? What are we doing about it?"

"Do we look like we know the answer to that yet?" Henry sighed, rubbing his eyes with one hand like he had a headache. "We can't just go in there and act normal, but–"

"–But the alternative is telling the truth and unavoidably ruining the holiday," she realized. "Got it."

"Pretty much," Liam muttered. "Happen to have any magical suggestions we haven't thought of?"

She shook her head, disappointing herself probably even more so than them. "What happened—did it show up at your place this time?"

He grimly nodded. "Yeah, just like it happened with Henry. It just showed up in my mailbox with my address as the sender so I don't have any way of tracking where it came from."

Amelia's fingers curled in on themselves, digging tiny crescents into her palms. The Lily she'd heard so much about wouldn't be torturing them like this if she was in her right mind, which of course eternally begged the question—was she in her right mind? Was it someone or something else that was swaying her?

It had been weeks since they'd come up with their theory that there had to be someone with her if she was still managing to get her prescriptions while staying completely under the radar and yet they weren't anywhere closer to figuring out who that person could be or why the hell they were doing it. There wasn't anyone out there who would have a grudge against her, who would have any reason to harm her. And the private investigator that her parents hired clearly turned out to be a complete waste of money as he had yet to dig up anything that they hadn't already.

When a woman disappears on a dark road and no one who's seen her recently can recall witnessing any suspicious behavior, there's not a whole lot anyone can do about it, not even the best of detectives. Especially when the law won't get involved. Especially when that woman refuses to leave behind a paper trail and their one and only lead is that someone picked up a 90-day prescription that still doesn't need to be refilled for another month.

"We can't lie to her parents," Amelia conceded. "We just—we can't. If you won't make the decision then I will, but we need to get back in there before they come out here instead."

Neither of them protested; it seemed like they really did just need someone else to make the final call for them. So she led the way back inside, attempting to keep as much a straight face as possible as she returned to her seat, slipping her hand into Henry's under the table.

Everyone else started to greet Liam when he entered the room, then simultaneously fell silent as he set the note down in front of him. It was quiet enough that she could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her head; he kept his eyes downcast as he simply handed the paper over to Lily's father to read.

Amelia watched in dismay as it was slowly passed around the table, as eyebrows furrowed and lips frowned and grieved sighs left them. When it had finally come all the way back to their end and Henry slid it in front of her, she couldn't bring herself to read it. Her gaze was glued to Daniel, who was giving Liam a sideways look of evident disapproval—anger, even.

"Why didn't you call us as soon as you got this?"

With all eyes on him, Liam seemed to shrink into his seat. And it was then, perhaps for the very first time, that it truly registered with Amelia that despite all of his maturity and wisdom, he was practically still a kid. Only twenty-two, attempting to navigate this scary world where his biggest troubles should have been starting his career and settling down. But instead of getting to worry about things cost of living or the complexities of online dating, he had to deal with the fact that he'd quite literally lost the girl of his dreams and now had adults twice his age trying to blame him for it.

"I'm sorry," he swallowed. "I—I didn't know what to do."

Henry quickly jumped to his defense. "Don't try to make this just about him when it's obviously not. Are we going to keep sitting around and pointing fingers at each other or try actually doing something productive for once?" he asked, staring his uncle down from across the table. "Because we already tried it your way with the investigator and that didn't do shit–"

"Henry," both of his parents scolded, and a look of irritation flickered across his face.

More tactfully, walking the tightrope between sternness and sympathy for his son, Robert added, "Henry, we don't know why you and Liam are the ones who have gotten these letters. But if what you've suggested before is true—that there's even a possibility that someone could be coercing her into doing this—then you two are the ones that this person is targeting most. That gives us all the more reason not to want you inserting yourselves even more–"

"Then when," Henry huffed. "Are any of the rest of you going to show up for her and figure this out? Because as far as I'm aware, me and Liam and Amelia have been the only ones doing anything at all."

Amelia knew when she saw the way Daniel's eyebrows perked up in sudden indignation that whatever words were about to come out of his mouth were going to be vile.

Dryly, he questioned, "That's a bit of a bold statement from the person who couldn't have cared less about her for the first seventeen years of his life, don't you think?"

"I think that's a little bit unfair–" she interjected as Rob and Jen also made sounds of protest, but she felt Henry's fingers abruptly grip hers much more tightly under the table, a silent plea for her to stop.

But how could she? He was clearly hurt, his eyes sharp with the pain that he was trying to conceal in the rest of his features, trying to hide from everyone else. And she could tell, just from looking at him then, that he'd always felt weak around his aunt and uncle.

And he'd always hated it. She didn't have time to stop him from lashing back.

"Says the parents who she's never in her life felt like she could talk to. It's not like she's come to me with all her feelings for the past seven years or anything like that."

"Henry, please–" Jen was saying.

Amelia shot a panicked glance over at Liam. Was it too late to excuse herself to the bathroom?

"And it's normal for teenagers not to want to talk to their parents," Daniel retorted. "You of all people would understand that, wouldn't you?"

He seemed to briefly regret what he'd said; a momentary glimpse of remorse flashed in his eyes for a second before he steeled himself again. But whatever the damage was had already been done. Robert was looking at his brother-in-law like he wanted to strangle him if he opened his mouth again; Jen looked like she might cry; Liam looked like a deer stuck in headlights.

And Henry, he looked stunned speechless, which worried Amelia even more than everything else that was happening. Because if nothing else that had been said so far was enough to have that effect on him but this did? She seemed to be the only one at the table who didn't understand the hidden implications of what Daniel had just said, but she wasn't sure that she wanted to know.

"We've always tried to do everything we could," he tried to recover the situation. "For both of you. Just like your parents do."

To give him a minuscule amount of credit, Amelia supposed it was a decent attempt at peacemaking, but it was too little too late. Henry's brain had already spiraled down an angry rabbit trail.

"You've always done everything you could? The way I remember it is that you talked to me all of five times in the year that my sister was literally dying and my parents really could have used your fucking help–"

"HENRY!" everyone around Amelia seemed to exclaim at the same time, and even she was startled by him—he was usually so gentle with his words that it took a lot for him to even say damn.

She had no clue what would have happened next had Liam not finally ground the bickering to a halt, slamming his hand onto the table loudly enough to nearly make everyone jump out of their seats.

"With all due respect, if everyone's just going to be cruel to each other, then will you all please kindly shut up?"

Amelia could have sighed with relief if she weren't so shocked. She didn't move to stop him as he got up from his chair and put a firm hand on Henry's shoulder, muttering something to him about going outside to cool off. And Henry didn't protest, either—he looked suddenly drained, as if he'd briefly been so consumed by anger alone that it'd only left a shell of him behind once it was choked out.

What she didn't process until she saw Jen looking at her with an expression drawn with sympathy was that she must have looked utterly confused and possibly even frightened. Had she been able to sit there and give everyone left at the table some sort of explanation of what had just happened, she would have. But what could there possibly be for her, the most oblivious girl in the room, to say? There was nothing.

She belonged out there with her boyfriend. Now, more than ever, she just needed to go be with her Henry.

And everyone there must have sensed it because none of them tried to stop her as she hurried out after him.