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I’m not so sure about that.

He continues. “I want you to find someone you can trust and rely on. Find one person. And talk to them.”

“What if they hate me? What if they judge me or pity me or stop being my friend because of what I say?” Nausea swells in my stomach.

“I think you’re smarter than that and you know who you can trust.”

The only person I can talk to is River. I know she won’t turn against me.

I give in. “I have someone I can trust.” My voice trembles.

“It’s scary, I know, and I don’t want to push you. But I think you are ready. And you don’t have to reveal every little detail. You can be brief and generic. And you can choose what and how much to reveal. But it’s import to find someone in your life you can talk to.”

“Are you telling me this because I said I was mad when I couldn’t talk to you right away?”

“No. I’m telling you this because healing requires light and trust. Hurt has a way of festering and getting bigger and darker than it already is when it stays hidden for too long.”

If that’s the case, mine must be the size of Godzilla by now.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

My phone ringssomewhere on my bed. I dig under the blanket. River’s face flashes on the screen.

“Hey, River, I only have a minute. I’m running out. Have a test in fifteen minutes.”

“I can’t believe you have a test. It’s three days before Thanksgiving!”

I hold my phone against my ear with a shoulder while I lace a sneaker. “I know. They had to reschedule it for today because of the canceled classes last week.”

“A lot of people left early. They should have canceled the rest of classes until after Thanksgiving. Have the tests then. And you should have come home with me.” Her voice sounds muffled. I finish lacing the second sneaker while she rants on.

I stand up. “It’s okay. The campus feels so weird, though. The halls are so quiet.” Even more so than normal before a big break or holiday. The shooting five days ago still hangs over everyone’s head. “I got to go. Call you later?”

“Yep. Good luck on your test.”

“Thanks.” I hang up, shove the phone in my back pocket and grab my backpack. I open the door to leave my room and nearly crash into Tommy.

“Jesus Christ, Tommy! You scared me. I almost peed myself.”

His laughter echoes in the empty hall.

I push at his chest and close the door behind me.

He pulls me into a hug. “You avoided me the entire weekend. Not cool, Becca, not cool.”

I hug him back, his gentle chastising stings and makes me even more awkward. Why is it easier to hook up with a stranger than to accept the affectionate hug of a friend?

He pulls back and drapes my arm over his like we’re an eighteenth-century couple. We walk to the elevator.

He pushes the down button. “So, I came here on a mission, and you can’t say no.”

I already don’t like it. “What are you trying to get me into?”

“Nothing bad. I want to invite you for Thanksgiving.”

My head is shaking like it’s on automatic pilot. I’m so used to declining invitations like this. I don’t do family holidays. And now I have three invitations. My father, River, and Tommy.

I still remember Thanksgiving freshman year. River dragged me along to her family’s farm. It was beautiful and heartbreaking. I got to see firsthand what I’d been missing my entire life. I never imagined there could be such a love. I have missed and envied it since. No. I don’t need another reminder.