We both grew up in Fosston. Compared to the city, Fosston was small potatoes with a population of six thousand, but it was big enough where people knew who the populars were, and Kian had definitely been in that crowd. He was rich and gorgeous, and he was respected. He also had the whole dark, mysterious, and brooding thing down pat, too.

I hadn’t thought much of Kian back then. I knew who he was, but I didn’t really know him, to be honest. I didn’t socialize much with anyone back then, except for a few nights when I snuck out to see my boyfriend, though he had been a bust. After a disastrous end with him, I never broke my Edmund’s strict rules again. They weren’t worth it. School, home—those were the two places I had been allowed to go. When I was at school, I heard the other girls talk about Kian a lot. In the restrooms, in the hallways, and in the locker room when we were changing for gym class, Kian was at the top of most girls’ wish lists.

That was then, and this was now.

He graduated to national stardom.

Most killers wouldn’t be idolized, but that was what had happened to him—with his face, penetrating dark eyes, black hair, chiseled high cheekbones, and lean body. When Kian killed my foster father, the news outlets all over the nation swept up the story. Add in his last name, knowing who his father was, and we had a phenomenon right there in Fosston.

And he was being released.

On the way home, I was in a daze. Erica was babbling about finding the right dress for Sids, but once we got to the apartment, I went straight for the shower. It had been my sanctuary during the trial, and I needed that privacy once more. I don’t know how long I stood in there, with my head down and letting the water pound down on me, but when someone knocked on my bathroom door, I jerked backward. I would’ve fallen and hit my head on the toilet, but I grabbed ahold of the door.

“Jo!” Erica’s shadow was under the door. “What are you doing? I thought we were going shopping.”

I was naked and wet, and there’d be a bruise on my hand in an hour.

“If you were to take a guess?” I called out, sharper than I intended, as I turned the water off and reached for a towel. Shit. This was my friend. I didn’t have to be a bitch to her. “Sorry. I was showering.”

“This whole time?” She hiccupped. “Okay. Change of plans. Instead of shopping, I’m drinking. Wanker got here a little bit ago. Actually,” I could hear the laughter from her, “I might be a little intoxicated already.” Her shadow swerved to the side. “Make that, slightly wasted.”

Wrapping myself with the towel, I sat down on the toilet and closed my eyes. Even sitting here, the old Jordan was coming back to me. I felt my spine leaving me, and all the old insecurities moving back in. I drew in a deep breath. I wasn’t back there where I couldn’t trust anyone, couldn’t even hope to believe someone. No. That was Jordan. I was Jo, and this was Erica on the other side of the door. I could trust her.

She had no reason to hurt me.

A muffled giggle and then a snort sounded. “How long until you’re ready? Wanker’s ready for some dancing and kicking butt tonight.”

My eyebrows pinched together. It was hard to think of a six feet three Wanker—constantly shoving his glasses back on and pinching the top of his nose—as a disco-fighting machine. But Erica was raring to go.

She had spewed the entire subway ride home about Susan: how she always got what she wanted, how she slept with the supervisor for the job, how she must’ve given him a blowjob if she hadn’t spread her legs. Erica kept going, but I’d been in my own Kian daze.

I wasn’t surprised that she was drinking already or that she got Wanker worked up with her. What she did, he did. He was there to support her, no matter what, just like she was with me.

Okay. Time to let go of the past. I was Jo now. Not Jordan. “Ten minutes,” I answered, hugging the towel tighter around myself. I needed that long to shake all the old baggage off me.

“Okay.” She began edging backward, away from my door. “I called a cab. I say, screw it, let’s go all out and pay for our own transportation. Forget public transportation for the night. Susan’s celebrating, so I’m going to celebrate tonight, too. The cab will be here in twenty.” She stopped a little bit away. Her voice was a little quieter. “Hey, I know I was raging, but you were quieter than normal on the way home. Is everything okay?”

“No, no,” I called out. “I’m fine. Honestly. My exam was harder than I had studied for, that’s all. I don’t think I’ll get an A on it.”

“Really?” She coughed, and the slight slur she’d had two seconds earlier was gone. “Oh, Jo, I’m so sorry. I’ll have a glass ready for you. It’s a perfect night for both of us to drown our sorrows, huh?” A wry chuckle left her. “Not for Wanker. I’m pretty sure he thinks he’s getting laid tonight, but it’s not going to be by me, so once he figures that out, he’ll be joining in with the depressed boozing tonight.”

Her voice trailed off as she left my bedroom, and once I heard that door close, a deep breath left me. I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against the door.

“Get your shit together, Jo,” I whispered to myself.

That was enough. No more Kian. No more thoughts about him or that night. No more thoughts about Edmund either. I never wanted thoughts about my foster father, even on a good day.

A slight panic buzzed in me as I knew what kind of media storm could be coming my way, but I pushed all of that down, way down, in me.

I changed into jeans and a T-shirt. I didn’t want attention.

I never did, but tonight was less than normal for me. Going to the mirror, I brushed my hair back so it grazed the tops of my shoulders. My hands lingered as I tucked the strands behind my ears.

I was the same girl as then but different. I used so much makeup back then, dressing up for my boyfriend. That was another rule, and the only one I continued to break from my foster father. Edmund said, “No makeup.” My teenage hormones replied, “Screw that,” so I scrubbed my face before going home every day. I liked makeup back then. I liked how it made me look older, not so pathetic. I was prettier. I was more sophisticated.

I barely used any now.

I applied just a little bit of soft pink lipstick and reapplied my mascara. That was it, some mascara and lipstick. I was good to go. Same girl but different.