Prologue
Alice
One Year Ago
Myhandrestsonthe doorknob. I pause before going inside. Lance’s cobalt blue pickup truck sits in the driveway. Madison just dropped me off from hanging out at the Cozy Cup in Pine Hollows. It’s the only time I get to actually breathe. He doesn’t know about it, and that gives me comfort. It feels sad to admit that I feel that way around someone I’ve been with for four years.
"Hey, where have you been?” Lance lifts himself off the couch, his expression serious. “I tried texting you but you didn’t answer, and you weren’t home when I got home and—”
“What?” I tilt my head at his flaring nostrils.
“What are you wearing?” He motions his finger up and down at my outfit. Oh boy.
“Um, a crop—”
“You really left the house like that?” Lance moves closer to me. “Who did you go see? Your car was still in the driveway when I got home.”
“I just went to hang out with Madison.” I shrug, placing my purse on the kitchen table. “She came to pick me up. I had a long day at work, so I just wanted to unwind.”
“You’re always with Madison,” he retorts. “And now you’re dressed like a whore.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me, Alice Marie.” Lance places his hand next to a porcelain plate. “I’m sick of you trying to show off to other guys.”
“When have I ever shown off to other guys?” I furrow my brows. “I’m not the one who was getting nudes from their coworker.”
The air conditioning hummed. Or maybe that was the ringing in my ears.
Lance's hand rested next to a porcelain plate. Then it shot out. The crash came before I understood what happened. Porcelain exploded against the wall behind my head. White shards rained onto my shoulders. Something hot grazed my cheek—not the plate. Just the air it displaced. Four years. Four years and he'd never—
My back hit the wall. Or maybe I put it there. I slid down. Broken porcelain bit into my palms but I couldn't feel it. The silence after the crash pressed against my ears. I could hear my own pulse. Too fast. Too loud.
The next thing I know, Lance is kneeling down in front of me.
“Alice, baby, I’m so sorry.” His voice softens. “You know sometimes my temper gets out of hand.” He tries to hold my hand, but I quickly jerk it away. His cologne—the same cologne I used to like—made my stomach turn.
“Get the fuck away from me.” I push him away from my face and walk out the front door.
Outside. I was outside. When did I get outside? The Minnesota heat wrapped around me like a wet towel. No breeze. My lungs couldn't pull in enough air. I leaned against my car—when did I walk to my car?—and my hands found my phone. They were shaking. Why were they shaking? Oh. Right. Every sound felt amplified. A door slamming down the block. A car starting. My own heartbeat.
Before I know it, tears blur my vision as I scroll to Mom’s contact on my phone. I rub my eyes and push my glasses up my nose, trying to focus. It’s desperate, but it’s worth a shot.
“Hello?” She picks up on the second ring.
"Hi, Mom." My voice came out smaller than I meant it to.
"Alice? What's wrong? It's late."
"I need—" I stopped. Started over. "Can I come stay with you tonight? Lance and I had a fight and I just need—"
"Oh, sweetie." That careful, patient tone. The one that meant she'd already decided. "Whatever it is, you two can work it out. You know Lance loves you. And you know how you can be sometimes." How I can be. Like this was something I did to myself.
"He threw a plate at me. At my head." The words felt too big in my mouth. "It almost hit me."
Silence. Just for a beat.
"I'm sure it was an accident, sweetie. Lance would never—"
