Kelly's hands tightened on her seatbelt strap, her knuckles whitening as they drove past the familiar landmarks of her childhood. There was the community center where she'd taken dance lessons, the high school football field where she'd cheered alongside Lori, the diner where they'd spent countless hours planning futures that, for one of them, would never come.
"Turn left at the next light," she instructed, her voice sounding strained even to her own ears. “Then it’s one mile down on the right.”
"You okay?" Ben asked, glancing at her briefly before returning his attention to the road.
Kelly realized she'd been holding her breath. She had to force herself to breathe.
"Just... taking it all in."
As they turned onto Maple Street, Kelly's anxiety ratcheted up several notches. Her hands began to shake visibly. Sheshoved them under her thighs, but the trembling seemed to travel upward, spreading through her chest until her breathing became shallow and quick.
“It's the fifth house on the right. The white one with the blue shutters."
Ben followed her directions, seemingly oblivious to her mounting panic. Or maybe he was just giving her space to process it. Either way, she was grateful he wasn't drawing attention to her obvious distress.
They were in front of the house now. Kelly could see the top of the massive oak tree that dominated her parents' front yard, the one her father had refused to let her climb as a child because "Bateman girls don't climb trees." She'd done it anyway, once, and been grounded for a week.
"Wait," she blurted out suddenly, the word explosive in the quiet car. "I can’t do this."
Ben put the sedan in park and turned to face her, concern etched across his far-too-handsome features.
"What's wrong? Let’s talk about it."
Everything. Everything was wrong. She couldn't do this. Couldn't walk into that house and face her family's scrutiny. Couldn't introduce Ben and watch him become another target for their judgment. Couldn't bear to see the disappointment in her mother's eyes when she inevitably failed to live up to whatever impossible standard had been set this time.
Nope. Not going to do it.
"I think we should go back," she said, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush. "To the airport. We can catch a flight back to New York tonight. Or maybe check into a hotel somewhere, anywhere, until the actual wedding on Sunday. This was a bad idea. A terrible idea, actually."
Ben's expression remained neutral, but his eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her face. How on earth could he be sodamn calm when the world was falling apart as they sat there in front of the house?
"Kelly," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "Take a deep breath."
She wanted to snap at him that she didn't need breathing instructions, but she took the breath anyway, her lungs burning with the effort of expanding against the tightness in her chest.
"Better?"
"Not really.”
"Listen," Ben said, shifting in his seat to face her more fully. "If we don't go to your parents' house, if we don't engage with your family and the town, we can't make any progress on Lori's case."
The mention of Lori cut through Kelly's panic like a knife, sharp and clarifying. That's why she was here. Not just for Celia's wedding, not just to endure her family's criticism, but for Lori. For the justice her friend had never received.
"I know," she conceded quietly. “I just wish…”
That my family was different. That I was different.
"Okay," she said, swallowing hard against the sudden tightness in her throat. "Let's do this."
Being a coward simply wasn’t an option today. She was going to have to dig up some courage whether she liked it or not.
The Bateman family home stood exactly as she remembered: a well-maintained two-story Colonial with pristine white siding, dark blue shutters, and a wraparound porch that had never actually been used for sitting.
The lawn was perfectly manicured, not a blade of grass out of place. Flower beds lined the walkway, each plant seemingly positioned with mathematical precision, blooming right on schedule.
It looked like it belonged in a magazine. Perfect. Immaculate. And somehow completely sterile.
"Kelly?" Ben's voice penetrated her frozen state. When she didn't respond, he reached over and placed his hand over hers on the door handle. His touch was warm, steadying.
