We’ll figure it out. It’s a mantra I’ve all but worn out over the last seven years.

“It’ll be okay.” God, I don’t sound the slightest bit convincing. Even I am unsure about the wisdom of my plan. But what am I supposed to do? Move them into my crappy little apartment in Las Vegas with my three roommates? Let Johnny teach Gabby how to roll a joint while lecturing Drew on the acceptable price of a dime bag? Or worse, beg Brandon to take me back so he can take care of us all? Fuck no.

“Mom worked her ass off to get us out of this crappy little town,” Drew says.

“So we’re rewriting history today?”

“You really think she’d want you bringing us back here?”

I don’t bother answering her. I’m sick of her painting Mom as the martyr she wasn’t, sick of defending my decision to track down our father, sick of trying to explain that there’s no money tree to harvest in order to allow her to keep living her old life.

“Whatever.” Dismissing me with a roll of her eyes, Drew pops the earbud back in and snatches her cell off the end table. Her fingers fly across the screen, no doubt texting her friends back home about what a heinous bitch I am.

If this is what motherhood is like, God can strike my ovaries useless right here and now.

I spot Gabby in the corner, sitting on a battered wooden chair and peering out the window to the parking lot below. She’s ten but she was born premature and her tiny frame and baby features never seemed to catch up, so she looks younger than she is. She looks up at me and gives me a sad smile, as if in apology for Drew.

My heart squeezes so hard and tight, my chest hurts and my lungs ache. I need those long, ragged breaths of a good cry and the bone-melting sleep that comes after. Every moment has been full since Mom died, and I haven’t given in to the temptation since the funeral. Crying is a luxury I’m saving for a private moment.

“How about we order a pizza for dinner?” I force enthusiasm I don’t feel into my voice.

“We had pizza for lunch.” Drew rolls to her back, never taking her eyes off her phone.

She’s right. In an attempt to lighten their sagging spirits today, I made a lunch stop at Chuck E. Cheese’s. It failed miserably.

I ignore her objection—pizza is cheap and something they’ll both eat—and look at Gabby. “Pizza and then maybe we’ll order a movie on Pay-Per-View, what do you say?”

Gabby nods before returning her attention to the window and the parking lot below. What is she looking for? Or who?

The doctor said that there’s nothing physically wrong with Gabby. “She can talk, she’s just choosing not to.” Then she recommended a therapist. Again.

I dig my wallet out of my purse and count the bills, even though I already know exactly how much I have. Or, more to the point, how much I don’t have. I didn’t anticipate my father not being here, and I’m out of money. All I have left is two singles, a quarter, two nearly maxed out credit cards, and a bank account wiped clean by Mom’s funeral expenses. As it is, I’m going to need money from Dad just for the gas to drive home.

I pull out the Visa and grab the phone book.

Where the hell are you, Dad?

The morning sun is hot on my back as I knock on the door to room 132 at the Cheap Sleep and hold my breath.

What am I doing? Cally wants nothing to do with me, and she’s leaving town in a few days. I should be calling Meredith, the granddaughter of my grandma’s best friend since childhood. Meredith has everything going for her—the career, the family, the personality. Fuck, she’s even gorgeous, and—judging by some of the texts she’s sent me—a little dirty in the best of ways.

But I’m not calling Meredith. I didn’t even respond to last night’s text—a creative promise of what she’d do for me if I came to her place tonight. No. Instead, I’m here, chasing after Cally. Again.

My thoughts are cut off when she swings the door open. She’s dressed in cut-offs and a tank and her hair is tied back at the base of her neck.

She freezes when she sees me. “What are you doing here?”

I lift the box in my hand. “Donuts?”

“Oh, thank Christ!” says a voice behind Cally. “If I have to eat another peanut butter sandwich, I’m going to retch.”

A teenage version of Cally appears beside her at the door and snatches the box from my hand. She has Cally’s dark hair and is dressed in far too little. Her short shorts and tank reveal more than they cover. I’m tempted to offer her my shirt to protect her virtue.

“Drew, don’t be rude,” Cally says.

I raise a brow. “Drew? Holy shi—shoot.” Of course Cally’s sisters wouldn’t be the little girls they were when they moved away, but it’s still a shock. Drew was in grade school when they left town and now she’s got cl**vage spilling out of her shirt.

Drew snorts. “You can say ‘shit.’ We’re not babies anymore.”

“Drew!” Cally scolds.

“Gabby!” Drew calls, ignoring her older sister and opening the donut box. “Cally’s boyfriend bought us donuts.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Cally says, snagging a square glazed donut from the box. “Don’t eat too many. You’ll make yourself sick.”

“‘You’ll make yourself sick,’” Drew parrots.

Gabby’s eyes light up as she looks into the box and draws out a chocolate croissant.

“You really shouldn’t have,” Cally says.

The little girl looks up at me with her big sister’s killer brown eyes and smiles, and I know I couldn’t regret this morning’s impulse if I wanted to.

“Well done, sis. We’re in town less than a day and you’re already hooking up.” Drew pushes her palms to the ceiling in a “raise the roof” gesture. “My sister is a player, man. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Drew!” Cally says around a bite of donut. “Seriously!” Stepping onto the sidewalk with me, she pulls the door shut behind her. She puts her fingers to her mouth as she chews and swallows. “I apologize for Drew. She’s just looking for attention.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad I could save her from the horror of another breakfast of peanut butter sandwiches.”

She smiles at me, a patch of sugary glaze just below her lip. “Why are you here—really?”

Without thinking, I reach to brush away the glaze, and the space between us suddenly pulses thick with awareness.

Her tongue darts out to lick her lip and skims my thumb. “We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” I step forward, closing the small space between us, and slide my fingers into her hair so I’m cupping her face. It’s so easy to touch her like this. Maybe it’s stupid. Maybe I should stay far away from her. But I can’t. And I don’t want to. “Go out with me tonight, Cally.”

“You know that’s not a good idea,” she whispers.

“You’re leaving, I get that. I’m just asking for one night. You, me—” I smile because she’s already turning her face into the palm of my hand, already as drunk on the memories as I am. “—and some strawberry wine.”

I SHOULD not go out with William Bailey. Nothing good can come of that.

I don’t know how many times I’ve repeated these words to myself since he showed up at our hotel room this morning. Yesterday, I saw him and went from zero to lusty in one-point-five seconds, but I blamed his condition—sweaty, shirtless, generally mouthwatering in every way.

I didn’t have that excuse this morning when he showed up looking so damn respectable in khakis and a deep blue polo the color of his eyes. With a freshly shaven jaw and those messy curls damp from his shower, he smelled of aftershave and soap. My panties didn’t stand a chance.

So I’m still attracted to him. And he’s still attracted to me. But that doesn’t change what I did. And it doesn’t make a date with him a good idea.

This is what I’m reminding myself of again and again as I push my cart through the produce section of the grocery store. This is what I’m repeating in my mind as I sip a cup of free grocery store coffee and catch myself holding the cheek he touched this morning.

“Oh my God! Cally Fisher, is that you?”

I’m getting sick of this reaction from random townies, but I plaster a smile in place and turn to the feminine voice asking the question. As soon as I spot the bouncing blond curls, my smile turns genuine and I screech. “Lizzy!” I throw out my arms and we run to each other, hugging like the BFFs we once were.

Her skinny arms squeeze me tight and she squeals. “I never thought I’d see you again! You disappeared off the face of the f**king Earth, girl!”

My throat grows thick, and I swallow back unexpected tears. As far as my former life here was concerned, I did fall off the Earth, and not for any of the good reasons. “I know. I suck.”

Lizzy steps back and shakes her head. “Don’t say that. You were entitled to live your own life. You needed to cut ties here in order to move on.”

She’s probably the only one who saw it that way.

I look around the grocery store, scanning the faces in produce.

“Hanna’s not here,” Lizzy explains, knowing I’m looking for her twin. “But I cannot wait to see her face when she sees you. We should totally surprise her.”

“I’d like that.” Again, I’m swallowing, and there’s an alarming burning behind my eyes. I shouldn’t have worried that the girls would hold my rare and overly brief communication against me. The Thompson girls are the best kind of friends—the kind who never made me feel less-than, never required me to pay my dues, never asked anything of me, actually.

Lizzy’s green eyes light up. “Will you be here next week? We’re having this giant end-of-summer bash at Asher Logan’s place. It’s going to be f**king epic.”

I choke on my coffee. “Not that Asher Logan, though, right?”

She wriggles her brows and grins. “Yes, that Asher Logan.”

“He lives here? In New Hope?”

“Right next door to my mama,” Lizzy says, raising four fingers. “Girl Scout’s honor.”

I fold her pinky down, and she giggles. “Christ,” I mutter. “I told my mom New Hope wasn’t boring.”

“And get this! Maggie’s dating him. Practically living with him, actually, though she still has her old place by campus.”

“Maggie is dating Asher Logan.”

“I swear to God! And if she didn’t deserve every ounce of his sweet, sexy ass, we’d hate her for it.”

“Go, Maggie!” My smile drops away when I see Drew approaching us, arms crossed, a scowl on her face. “Drew, do you remember Lizzy?”

“Vaguely,” she says in a bored tone.

Lizzy’s jaw unhinges at the sight of my beautiful little sister. “Drew? No way! You’re way too grown up!”

Drew rolls her eyes, no doubt sick of hearing those words from everyone we’ve run into. “They don’t have any veggie burgers.”

“Don’t be rude,” I warn.

Lizzy waves away my concern. “You’re at the wrong grocery store if you want a good vegetarian selection. Go to Horner’s by campus. They’ll have everything you need. Fancier stuff for a fancier girl.”

I wince. No doubt my picky sister would prefer the swanky high-end grocery, but I came here on purpose. Namely, I don’t have cash to waste on designer veggie burgers. I also came for the free coffee but mostly for the prices.

“Thank God,” Drew breathes, turning up her nose as she looks around the store.

She’s become such a pretentious snob in the last few years. It was one thing when Mom was around to coddle her, but I’m sick of her acting like she used to live some posh life when that’s never been the case. Given our circumstances now, I can hardly stomach her attitude. And when I think about the sacrifices I made so she could have the things she did—food, clothes, a roof over her head—I want to smack her.

Lucky for Drew, I’m only a shitty enough sister to think about smacking her and not enough of one to actually do it. I know she can’t comprehend our situation. Truthfully, I wouldn’t want her to.

“Oh my God,” Lizzy squeals. “Is that little Gabriella?”

Gabby scoots to my side and leans away from Lizzy.

“I used to help babysit you, little stinker!” Lizzy says, clapping her hands. “My God, you’re all so flipping dark and gorgeous. Where’s your mom? How’s she doing? Are you just visiting or back for good? So much catching up to do. We should—” Suddenly, Lizzy seems to register the horror on my sisters’ faces and she cuts herself off.

“My mom passed away last month,” I tell her softly. “I’m here to get the girls settled in with my dad.”

“Gabby wants to wait in the car,” Drew says, grabbing her little sister’s hand and throwing a bitter look at Lizzy. “I’ll take her.”

“Jesus,” Lizzy breathes as they walk away. “I had no idea. Are you guys okay? I mean, considering?”

“It was unexpected,” I say, which is true. Mom had really shaped up her life. I can’t say she ever let go of her precious orange bottles, but in the last few years she’d at least been a functional addict. Her overdose came out of the blue. “They’re taking it pretty hard. The move doesn’t help.”

“I feel like a total bitch.” Lizzy draws her bottom lip between her teeth as she watches my sisters push through the double doors to the parking lot. “I’m talking about rock stars and parties and you’re here because you lost your mom.”