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She frowns at the glass I got her for Christmas that says, “it’s not drinking alone if your dog is home” before turning to me. Except, we don’t have a dog anymore. So…

“You’re home. That’s plenty reason to celebrate.”

As if she never sees me. “I’ve been home for three days,” I point out. “You just don’t remember the first one because your girlfriends got you super drunk at book club while discussing the deeper meaning of Jane Austen.”

She eyes me but doesn’t argue because she knows there wasn’t a Jane Austen book in sight at her little club meeting. Only wine and snacks.

“And,” I add, stealing a piece of sliced Monterey jack, “I come home every month to see you. It’s not like I went off to school and never came back or called. I’m pretty sure I talk to you more now that I go to college than when I lived here.”

It’s true. Not that I’m complaining. My mom has always been my best friend. Sebastion is a close second. Our family bond hasbeen strong for years, and it seemed to only get stronger when we all went our separate ways.

Which makes me think about what’s going to happen when I graduate. It crossed my mind a time or two, but my conversation with Skylar reminded me I needed to start thinking about jobs and moving home.

And the more I think about how little I know what the next step is, that familiar weight tugs on my consciousness. It tries dragging me down, down, down into the deepest depths of my mind. Which is the last place I want to be. The second uncertainty finds me, it holds on like a hawk clenching onto its prey for dear life in its talons. Then the panic seeps in. I don’t want to go to that dark place where I have to force a smile and pretend I’m not freaking out about my future.

Mom puts away the blocks of cheese when she’s done with them and takes out the olives and pepperoni slices to add to her makeshift charcuterie board. “I know, I know. But it’s been three days, and I feel like you’ve barely told me anything. When I got home, you and Bodhi were so quiet. You’re normally bickering about whatever is on TV or you’re yelling at him for eating your food. It’s like you’re siblings.”

I choke on the cheese.

“Oh, honey!” she drops what she’s doing to get me a glass of water. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I wheeze, coughing up the food. “I just don’t think of Bodhi as a sibling.”

She passes me the glass and watches carefully as I sip the water. “I get it. It’s hard to look at someone attractive that way. But ever since you met him, you’ve bantered just like you and Sebastian always have. I think it’s cute.”

Oh, God. That’s just…really gross to think about considering Bodhi was all up in my business only days ago. “Can we change the subject to something less disturbing?”

Mom laughs, rubbing my shoulder. “I didn’t realize that was going to strike a nerve. Did something happen between you two?”

My face grows hot, so I hide it behind the water cup. “Like what?” I ask, my words echoing into the glass and steaming the sides with my breath.

“I don’t know. A fight?”

A fight. Sure. We could go with that. Because if I told her the truth, she’d probably never sit on her favorite couch again. Although, it’s hideous. Getting rid of it might not be a bad idea. “No, I wouldn’t say there was a fight. I suppose we just didn’t feel super chatty about personal stuff that was happening in our lives when it was brought up.”

That part isn’t a lie. I may have been chasing a feeling to get my mind off of Alex, but it was clear Bodhi was doing the same. I still want to know why he wasn’t at practice, and when I asked Sebastian after he called with updates on my car, he’d told me it was none of my business.

Which means he knows and isn’t telling me. But I respect his loyalty to his friend, even if my curiosity has been thoroughly piqued.

Sibling.I shiver at the thought of Bodhi being a Henderson. No way.

The anticlimactic answer seems to disappointment the woman who’s been my biggest supporter since birth. “Oh. Well, you can tell me about the happenings in your life. Any cute boys I should know about?”

I steal more cheese. “You know me. There’s always a line out the door of cute boys waiting to woo me.”

She pins me with a look. “If they were smart they would be.”

Before she can lecture me about self-worth and how beauty is within and all that jazz, I butt in. “I wanted to focus on schoolthis year. Theremight havebeen a boy once. But that got a little complicated and I didn’t need the distraction.”

Mom stops what she’s doing and turns her full body to me. “Why didn’t you say anything when it happened? I knew something was up whenever you’d come home with that shine missing in your eyes, but you never wanted to talk about it.”

What is with her and my eyes? “It was just a silly boy. And what do you see in my eyes that gives me away so easily?”

“You love so deeply, but so cautiously,” she tells me, putting her hand on mine. “You’re just like me. And, sometimes, that worries me. I shut myself off from love a long time ago. But you’re so young. You don’t deserve to look at the world, at people, so cynically. You still have a light in your eyes, baby girl. When you’re hurt, you try so hard to pretend you’re not. But that light flickers the more you fight it.”

I don’t know why that settles so far into my chest, but it does. Swallowing, I shake my head. “He was just a boy, Mom. I still have plenty of light left.”

Well, maybe not a boy. A man. A professional hockey player. And Sebastian’s college nemesis and current rival. But whatever. Those were all minor details.