Leo dramatically drops the paper plate on the table. “Ta-da!” he shouts.

My jaw drops, my eyes moving from the plate to each of the Preston boys in front of me. “Are these Virginia’s brownies?”

Three heads nod in unison. All dark hair, all piercing blue eyes.

“You hunted down your old nanny to bake my favorite brownies?”

Logan shakes his head. “No. She’s working down in Wilmington, so she emailed us the recipe.”

I peel the Saran Wrap covering the brownies. “You made these?” I look at Lucas, hoping he’s the one who answers. I’d made peace with the situation between us, but it seems like he’s the one pulling away now, creating an ever-growing divide between us.

“Technically,” Leo says, laughing at my reaction. “All six of us tried to make them. Dad had to take Lachy because he kept throwing eggs. After the third failed batch, the twins gave up. So it was just us three left.”

“We got it right on the fifth batch, but then Luke remembered you liked yours with walnuts, so we had to make those,” Logan says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. “Lane,” he says seriously. “I could’ve died making these for you. Then what would you do? Because I know you want me, and you can’t have me if I’m dead.”

I pout, meet Lucas’s eyes across the table. “This is really nice.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Leo says. “Dad was pissed when he saw the kitchen this morning.”

Lucas chuckles, breaks our stare to glance at Leo. “Was he?” God, I miss his voice, his laugh, his smile. I miss being part of the Preston world.

“So mad,” Leo says.

I pick up a brownie, inspect it. “It’s perfect.” I bring it to my mouth, but Logan stops me.

“We have to sing Happy Birthday first!”

“Don’t you dare!” I hiss.

They all laugh. “Why not?” Leo asks.

“I’m trying to avoid any more attention.”

I ate four brownies for lunch and now I feel sick.

In my defense, they were so good.

“I tried to cut you off at two,” Leo says, shaking his head as he watches me walk, my hand on my stomach, toward Mrs. Miles office after school.

“You just here to gloat?” I ask.

“I thought I’d give you a ride home so you didn’t have to catch the bus with the botanical gardens in your arms.”

“I appreciate it.”

I knock on Mrs. Miles’ door and she opens it, flowers in her hand. “Tell your boyfriend I said thank you for the rose.”

“Sure thing,” I tell her, taking them from her.

I shuffle through school, cheeks red, past everyone pointing and whispering. Leo has to open doors and walk with his hand on my back to lead me around because I can’t see over or through or around my present. We finally make it outside, and I feel like I can breathe again. Then he says, “Um. Lane?”

“Yeah?”

He takes the flowers from me, points to the parking lot. Specifically, Cooper and my dad in the parking lot standing next to a blue car with a giant red bow.

My stomach twists. “Oh no…”

“Happy birthday, baby!” Cooper shouts.

“You got me a car for my birthday?” I ask, moving toward him, a million different emotions rushing through me.

“Not just me,” he says, hands up in surrender. He can read my expression: shock mixed with embarrassment mixed with a whole lot of what the fuck?

“Cooper came to me with the idea, and we worked out a budget that suited both of us,” Dad says. “Cooper found the car online, and I got it checked out.” His eyebrows pinch, concern deep in his eyes. “Do you not like it, sweetheart? Is it the color or—”

“No,” I cut in, hugging him close. “It’s perfect.” But he can’t afford to buy me a car, or half of one, or whatever, and Cooper has an endless stream of Fuck You money. I lean up on my toes, whisper in his ear, “Dad, you can’t afford—”

He releases me, his eyes on mine. “It’s fine, sweetheart.” He glances at Cooper, then back to me. “It’s a wonderful thing Cooper thought to do.”

I turn to Coop. “Thank you.” Then I hug him, too. “This is too much.”

Cooper grins. “You deserve it, Lo.”

“Hey, Brian,” Leo says, standing behind me. “You got Lane a car?”

Dad smiles at him, pride in his eyes I haven’t seen in a long time. Ever since I got my license, Dad had dreamed about buying me a car but he’d never been able to swing it, and with everything that went on with my mom and the college money, he’d given up hope. But now Cooper is here, and he’d given Dad the chance to do something he’d wanted for so long.

Leo sets my flowers on the roof of my new car while Dad tells him all about it. I step closer to Cooper, put my arms around his waist. “I can’t believe you did this. And what are you even doing here? You’re supposed to be in class.”

He shrugs, kisses me once. Then his lips curl, his gaze lingering on mine. “To be fair, it was a selfish gift. Next semester, I’ll be back on the track team and I won’t be able to come home as often. I was hoping maybe you’d come see me on campus?”

“I’d love that,” I tell him honestly.

“So do you like it?”

I look at the car, the hood now lifted while Dad shows it off to Leo and Lucas. “I love it so much,” I tell him. Not necessarily the car, or the fact that it’s mine. I love what it means for my father.

“I’m taking you, your dad, and Misty out to dinner tonight,” Cooper says. “And this time, we’re doing fancy.”

“Holy shit,” Logan says, now standing next to Luke. “Is this yours, Lane?”

I face him. “All mine.”

He laughs. “So much for avoiding attention.”

Cooper takes us to the same fancy restaurant Luke took me to for my sixteenth birthday.

He orders the lobster.

We talk about my new car, about Coop at UNC, about the track team.

“What about you, Lane?” Misty asks.

“Me?” I ask, a mouthful of steak.

“Are you planning on going to college?”

I glance at Dad, realizing he hasn’t told her.

“We had a little hiccup,” Dad says, his gaze lowered in shame. But he’s not the one who should be ashamed, and I hate that he feels that way.

So I clear my throat, stab at my steak as if it were my mother. “I wanted to go to UNC, too, but my mom stole my college fund.”

Misty chokes halfway through sipping her wine while Cooper’s eyes snap to me. I’m still stabbing away, pissed that my mom still has the power to make my dad feel like shit. “She just stole it?” Coop asks.

“It’s fine,” Dad says.

“No, it’s not,” I hiss.

“Not here, Lo.”

Awkward silence passes while I try to regroup.

“You know,” Cooper says, “both my parents are UNC alumni.”

If he offers to pay for college—

He adds, “My mom’s good friends with the dean of admission there, and I’m sure she’d be happy to meet you, direct you toward some scholarships.”