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Barrett had a similar effect on her that alcohol did, Nell realized: he calmed her, slowed things down, and made her forget.

She needed assistance when she was away from him on the weekends, but during the week, when she knew he was within reach whenever she needed, an easiness settled her anxious nerves and shaky hands. Her mood improved. She didn’t burn through alcohol and weed the same way.

Her parents noticed too. After their walk last week, her mother started coming into her room often again, checking on her.

She’d stopped doing it when half the time all Nell did was lie in bed and hide under her covers.

Nell still did that, but at least she responded when she’d ask how she was doing and even accepted a book her mom thought she would like.

Tonight, they were going to dinner.

It’d been ages since they went out to eat as a family. Nell had refused to get in the car for so long that it didn’t seem possible. But, for the first time, she’d agreed to ride her bike and meet her parents at a nice place in the center of town.

At her mother’s insistence, she even braided her hair down her back, teased what was left of her muddy grown-out bangs, spread some light eye shadow on her lids, and put on a nice dress.

On a weekend, she wouldn’t have managed all that, but on a Tuesday, when she knew Barrett would be working at the music shop just a few blocks over, it wasn’t so bad.

She parked her bike right outside the restaurant and fluffed her crinkled dress before her parents arrived. She played with her overgrown bangs and tucked stray strands behind her ears.

They pulled up, and her mother grinned when she got out of the car. Nell’s mood wasn’t the only one that had improved lately. Her mother donned a smile that helped hide some of the newer wrinkles on her face.

“Janelle, you look so beautiful.” Her mother ran her hands over Nell’s head and held her face with her hands, leaning forward to press an affectionate kiss on her cheek. “Thank you for coming.”

They entered the restaurant together. The hostess took multiple takes at them before she collected herself enough to greet them. Well, greeted her father while throwing sideways glances at Nell from the corners of her eyes.

Aside from church, it had been a long time since they’d shown up as a family in public. Long enough that it was noticeable.

“This way, Pastor.” The girl, who Nell thought she might or might not recognize from high school, led them to a table under a dim hanging light, with a few candles in the middle.

Her parents had certainly turned this into an occasion.

Nell sat across from them, and the hostess set three cups of water down. “Your server will be out shortly.”

Her mother and father thanked her, but right before she turned away, Nell made eye contact with her for a split second. As short as it was, it was long enough to catch the look in her eyes that wasn’t entirely hatred. No, there was something that resembled a sour apprehension.

Nell frowned, the look lingering in her mind even as the hostess turned away. She glanced at her parents, wondering if they had noticed it as well, but both seemed too interested in their menus to have caught it.

So, Nell did the same.

She scanned through the options, half listening and giving the occasional smile as her mother spoke about some of the exciting things happening in her life in between comments on the specials of the week.

Every now and then, her mom mentioned things Nell didn’t know about.

She had no idea her mother had joined a Jazzercise or that she was volunteering at the garden center on Saturdays.

The more her mom spoke, the less focused the menu became.

Nell had never noticed how disconnected she’d become from her parents. While her world had stilled and locked her in place, they’d never stopped turning.

Had she expected them to stop and wait for her too?

As her mother said something about what flowers she would love to plant in front of the house next spring, someone—no doubt the server—approached out of the corner of Nell’s eye.

Just as her mother started going on about the different varieties of peonies, her voice cut off.

The sudden freeze in monologue drew Nell out of her mind.

She looked up, finding both of her parents with odd expressions.

Her father had his pastor’s smile on, and her mother donned a nervous grin. Neither of them were looking at her.

“Emilia,” Nell’s mom said. “It’s been so long.”

As Nell met the server’s eyes, her slow-turning world froze moments after creaking to life and the blood drained from her body, leaving her a pale stone statue.

The woman standing next to them with a pad in hand and an apron tied around her waist had long wavy hair and tan skin.

Nell couldn’t tell if the entire restaurant had stopped talking or if she’d gone deaf from the ringing in her ears.

Tremors immediately took over her hands, and that sickly familiar bile rose in her throat.

It’d been little more than seven months since Nell last saw Emilia Francisco, but the woman had aged ten years.

Dark circles ringed her eyes, heavy wrinkles lined her forehead, and the light in her brown eyes had dulled.

Nell knew that look all too well.

The effects of lingering grief were a good friend to her now, a companion in the mirror.

And no one could understand it better than her friend’s mother.

Minnie’s mother, Emilia, was alone.

She’d been a single mother to a single child.

In a second, she’d become a single person.

No husband, no children. No one.

Because of you .

Emilia wasn’t a server. She was a nurse. How could she be here?

The woman opened her mouth, but Nell couldn’t stand to hear her voice. Minnie and her mother shared the same laughter, the same voice.

Nell panicked and stood from her seat, the chair screeching, and she pushed from the table. She mumbled three words—“I’m so sorry”—under her breath and ran from the dim candle-lit table into the evening breeze.

A million things could have come out of Emilia’s mouth, but Nell feared it would be Minnie’s scream.

She was sobbing by the time she was out of the restaurant, yet her face remained dry. It was like she’d cried every ounce her body had to offer, and all that could come out at this point was nothing.

She grabbed her bike just as her parents came running out as well.

“Janelle, please stop.”

Nell only stopped because of the desperation in her mother’s voice, but she couldn’t look at them. She spun around, facing her parents.

“I-I’m really sorry, but I—” Then she saw it: the look on her dad’s face. Something about it, just something , told her everything she needed to know.

He wasn’t surprised. And when she looked at her mother, all she saw was guilt.

“You knew?”

Her father sighed and stepped forward.

Her mom wrung her hands together. “You will never get over this if you don’t—”

“You knew .” Nell choked on the words.

“Sweetheart, you’ve been doing so much better, we just thought—”

“Oh my god, you . . .” She trailed off as a horrible, screeching thought hit her. She felt what little blood remained in her face drain out. “Did she know?”

Her parents’ eyes shifted to one another, and Nell almost lost the strength to keep herself up.

“How could you do that? How could you do that to her? To me?” Her voice caught, and she swallowed before she completely broke down because she had to get it out. “How could you be so cruel?”

Her mother dropped her face into her hands and began to cry softly into them.

Her father visibly swallowed, but didn’t back down. “It’s time you got over it, Janelle,” he said.

“You don’t care about anyone but yourself, do you?” Nell yelled. She had no idea where these words were coming from. She’d barely had time to think before they came out of her mouth.

“We did it for you.”

“No,” she snapped. “You did it for you . That’s all you care about.

You hide everything because you want to look good to everyone in this fucked-up town.

You would rather hurt Emilia and me to make yourself look better.

But you’re no better than me. How does it feel, Dad, to know that I’m just like you and that I know it? ”

There was only one other person in the world who knew exactly what she was talking about, and she was looking right at him. His hard expression softened into a vulnerable hurt, but he couldn’t deny it. Because it was all true.

Like father, like daughter.

He’d simply had more experience and more time to learn how to hide it from others.

He said nothing. Her mother was sobbing so hard that Nell doubted she even understood the full extent of what she’d said.

“Enjoy your dinner,” she snapped and got onto her bike. They didn’t stop her as she pedaled away.

It was a blessing that the music shop was only a few blocks away from the restaurant.

Barrett’s effect was instantaneous.

The minute she saw him through the music shop window, the anger and betrayal and despair softened into a background noise. The emotions were still there, but just seeing him calmed them into manageable handfuls that she could stick in her pockets and forget. For now.