SOPHIE
River’s heater only blows hot air when the car is going over thirty, which means the four of us sit shivering at the red light outside the school gates.
Chloe leans forward from the back seat. "Did you see his face when you brought up Dad?"
"Chloe," Avery murmurs, giving her a warning nudge.
"I’m serious! He looked like somebody dropped an anvil on him."
"It was just the truth," I say, resting my forehead against the cold window.
In the side mirror before we turned, Nathan had been standing alone by the curb. For four years, every interaction with Nathan Carter felt like being cornered in a hallway. Watching him stay right where he was—hands stuffed into his pockets, watching us leave without closing the distance—felt foreign. Not fixed. But the static in my head had finally g
