“You’ve already done that once. You shouldn’t have to do it again.”

“It’s not about having to do anything, Charlene. It’s about wanting to. Whatever you need, whatever you want, I’ll do it for you. Don’t you get it? I l—”

“Don’t!” She scrambles away from me.

Her terror over the RV has nothing on her panic now. She shakes her head, as if she’s erasing thoughts, words, and memories. “Please, Darren. Whatever you think you should say right now, please don’t. I can’t. I can’t do this. There’s too much. I don’t even know.” She stands up, smoothing her hands down her thighs. “I need to go home. I have to go home.”

I stand too, wanting to reach out and hold on, to keep her where she’s supposed to be, which is with me. “I can take you home. Why don’t you stay with me? It’s safe, and I’ll take care of you.”

“My mom is here,” she says quietly.

“She can stay with us. I have spare bedrooms. If you need your space, you can stay in one of the other rooms, too.” I sound desperate. Maybe because I am. I have no idea how to manage this situation, but I feel like I’m losing her, as if I’ve opened the glass jar and this time when she goes free, she won’t come back.

That’s not acceptable.

But I can’t lock her away or I’m just as bad as the man she ran from.

Everything suddenly fits—the puzzle orders into a picture I couldn’t ever piece together properly.

I finally understand how much she hates being tied down to anything, literally and figuratively, apart from her job. She seeks stability in things, not people.

Except for Violet. She’s the only constant person I can see. Not even her mother holds that kind of sway with her. I want to know how to be that. I want to know what I need to do in order to be that for her. Because as she shuts down on me and pulls into herself, and the fire I love so much flickers and dies, I’m certain of one thing: if I’m traded, there’s a good chance I’ll lose her forever. Violet will be the anchor that keeps her from coming with me.

And after everything I’ve learned tonight, I’m not sure I can blame her for wanting to stay, even if it means I have to leave half my soul in Chicago with her.CHARLENE

The night I came home from the party, there was a box on the front stoop. I assumed it was from Darren, so I didn’t open it right away. But the next morning a pamphlet from The Ranch had been shoved through the mail slot, possibly as some kind of messed-up, highly ineffective enticement. All it did was make me never want to leave my house again.

I learned a very important lesson on my twenty-sixth birthday. Burying the past and pretending none of it happened in no way erases it. In the wake of Frank’s reappearance, the carefully crafted façade and the world I’d built for myself crumbled. In its place, I’m left with a past I can’t escape, even though I ran from it, a present that terrifies me, and a future that’s disturbingly unstable.

The number of memories I’d blocked out, or maybe hadn’t been able to process with any kind of reasonable perspective as a fourteen year old, are now alarmingly clear. I see myself through a new lens, without the rose-colored glasses of youth to soften and smooth it all out.

I’m angry at my mother, my father—the real one, and Frank, who preyed on the weak and disadvantaged. They’re the people who made The Ranch seem like the better option. In the wake of Frank’s reappearance, I feel more alone than ever, even though I have perpetual calls and messages from my friends.

I feel extremely other, alien, like I no longer fit where I used to, and I’m embarrassed and humiliated by a past I had no control over. I don’t know how to blend in anymore, or even just exist.

On Monday I stand at the front door, dressed for work even though my head is in a fog. I want to ground myself in this slice of normalcy. My hand is on the doorknob, but I can’t seem to turn it. I sift through all the memories of The Ranch and fixate on the fence that surrounded the compound, meant to keep us all safe, but all it did was trap us in a life so narrow it was like living in a pinhole.

My head aches as things start to make sense in a way they haven’t before. My fear of being trapped, of needing stability, the importance I place on my friendship with Violet, not wanting to leave Chicago and my built-in family, my inability to let Darren get too close. My head is a mess of memories, and my heart is bleeding with emotions I can’t filter.