Lila
The walk from Shawn’s truck to my front door couldn’t have been more than thirty feet, but every step felt heavier than the last. I could still feel everything that had happened at his house pressing against me—the concern in Mrs. Mathews’s voice, the seriousness on Mrs. Boutros’s face, and the realization that three different people had looked at pieces of my life and decided something wasn’t right. By the time I reached the porch, I was already rehearsing what I would say if Mom asked why I was late, though I didn’t even know whether I had actually done anything wrong.
I turned before opening the door. Shawn was still sitting behind the wheel, watching me through the windshield with that same worried expression he’d had for most of the ride home. He hadn’t tried to lecture me or p
