In the morning, when I come down, Cassie is in the kitchen, her head deep in her folded arms, her neck bent at an unnatural angle. A soft snoring sound comes from her that only stops when I tap her shoulder. She starts up, her green eyes wide and unfocused as she transitions from dreaming to waking.

"Leila," she says in a thick voice. "You're awake."

She lets out a long, exaggerated yawn as she stretches her arms up, and twists her head one way and then the next, working out the kinks. Her hand moves to her hair and, in a moment, she's pulled her dirty blonde hair into a messy bun held together by her red scrunchie.

"Want some?" she asks, getting groggily to her feet and making her way to the stainless-steel coffeemaker to pour herself a cup of steaming black liquid. It was a going away gift from Dad, but like all gifts from him, the high-end machine looks stark and modern against the old-fashioned hominess of the house he rented for us.

"Sure." I take the blue mug from her outstretched hand. I don't care for coffee much, but when someone offers, it seems easier just to say yes.

Cassie is still in the pink scrubs she wore to work. The outfit sits snug against her lovely figure. On her feet she wears a pair of the striped woolen socks she pulls on as soon as she gets home because she finds the wooden floors too cold. As she seats herself down at the table across from me, she brings her hand to her mouth to stifle another yawn. "Sorry."

"You didn't have to stay up for me," I say, but all the while I'm thrilled that she has. The warm Cassie who worries about me and wants to know about my life is the best Cassie. The frazzled, overworked and cold Cassie, not so much.

"I felt bad." She brings the cup to her lips and blows the steam in my direction. Her sea-green eyes, the mirror image of mine, focus on me. "I missed your first day of school, and I know how hard it was for you, so the least I can do is to be here for breakfast. How did it go, anyway?"

I hesitate, as I wonder if I should mention Nick and all the unwanted attention he's giving me, but when I see the dark circles under her eyes, I keep it to myself. Cassie is working as a full-time nurse, and meeting with her study group three evenings a week because what she wants more than anything is to prove to Dad that she's got what it takes to be a doctor. On top of this, she picks up extra shifts when she can because, although Dad adopted her when he married Mom, it's like he divorced Cassie too when he and Mom broke up. He pays for the house because I live here with her, but everything else falls to Cassie. And right at this moment, she has enough on her shoulders without me adding my anxieties.

"It was fine."

She visibly relaxes, her shoulders slumping as a smile spreads across her face. "Did you meet any nice girls?"

I think of Hilary. "I spoke to some," I lie.

Sniffing the air, I suddenly realize that something that should be here is gone. "What happened to the flowers?" I ask, looking around for them. The scent of roses is nowhere and I wonder for a moment if she's taken them up to her room.

She frowns. "I put them outside."

"What? Why?"

"Who delivered them?" she asks, ignoring my question.

"Ron."

Her brow creases. "Was there a note? Or did he say who it was from?"

"Nothing."

"The scent was giving me a headache," she says, abruptly getting to her feet and moving back to the coffeemaker for a top up. "I'm sorry if you liked them. I wouldn't have tossed them if I thought they were from your dad or uncle, but I think it must have been a mistake."

"Did you see the words written on the box?"

She freezes. "What words?"

"Every breath you take."

Cassie stiffens.

"What do you think it means?" I insist when it looks like she won't say anything else.

"It's probably a stupid prank. Anyway, I'm glad they're in the garbage. Do you care?"

I shake my head. On the one hand, they were beautiful, and it's always sad to see something beautiful destroyed, but not knowing who gave them to us, or why, is creepy and I'd rather think it's a mistake. Either way, with them outside, we can forget about them.

She swallows and scrunches up her nose. A sure sign she's getting ready to approach a touchy subject. "Anything else happen yesterday?"

The slow click of the phone comes back to me. I rehearse telling her about it, but decide there's no point since she'll just say it was a wrong number. I'm about to shake my head when I remember Will's hand resting on the gearshift, too close to my leg. That's what she's getting at. My appetite dulls, making me no longer interested in breakfast. "Did you know Jenny asked her nephew to drive me home?"

She blinks and moistens her lips as she gives herself time to respond. It's all the answer I need. She knew.

I lower my head. I told myself it was some kind of misunderstanding. But of course, it wasn't. She knows how I feel about guys, and yet she had a stranger give me a lift home. I can't get past it.

"Leila, look at me. Don't overreact." She brushes her bangs out of her eyes, her hair glistening, like the color of wheat in the morning sun that pours in from the window above the sink. "Small towns are different..." She pauses. "I've spent more time in them than you. I couldn't refuse. Jenny was really, really pushy. I couldn't get out of it without explaining..."

My eyes narrow as I give her a death stare.

"Which, of course, I wouldn't do to you."

I slump in my chair, too aware of what it's like to be bulldozed by people, to hold it against her. Cassie and I are similar in that way. When we like someone, it's hard not to fold. Maybe it's Dad's lingering effect. Dad's not a bad guy, but he's so domineering. All those years of fighting with him have trained us to give in to others, over long arguments about what we want. I can picture Jenny insisting on calling Will, going on about the rain, until she convinced Cassie to give in and agree.

She gives me a hopeful smile.

"It's okay," I say. "But just don't do it again. Don't talk about me with workpeople."

"It won't happen. Promise."

I nod and accept her word.

"Unfortunately, Sue's still sick. I'm going to bed after you leave, but I have to be at work by four. I won't get home until well after midnight." She scans my face, waiting for some reaction.

"But don't you have your study group tonight?"

She sighs. "I'll catch up. Will you be okay here alone?"

I hide any misgivings I have about being isolated in this house again. What's the point when she already has so much to deal with? She's only twenty-three, but she's been forced to be a mom to me since ours abandoned us five years ago. I'm not giving her any excuse to send me back to Dad again. "It's fine."

"If you're sure."

I hate when she says that. Of course, I'm not sure. I don't want to be alone in a strange house in a strange town. But can she change her schedule for me? Of course not. So why fake it? Why pretend there's an option where she gets to be here with me instead of being away night after night?

I swallow my annoyance and another sip of the coffee before I rise. When I speak, my words come out clipped. "Lock the door. You left it open again yesterday. It-"

She releases a loud, exaggerated sigh. "You're too fixated on the doors. It's a small town."

"But there've been break-ins. The ladies said-"

She cuts me off. "From the big houses. Not this street. What would they take? Look at this place. What could they possibly take?"

"Just lock the door." My voice rises in frustration to match hers. "Why is this such a big deal? It takes five seconds, but it makes me feel safer."

"Fine." She lifts her phone from the table and raises it to block me.

I grab the keys from the counter where she's left them. "I have to go. I'll see you..." I'm about to say later, but who knows when I'll see her next.