Page 49

My hand lifts to cover my right ear as my head swirls with memories.

“Lillian.” My dad’s voice is almost a yell. “You’re doing it again.”

My lips tremble as I step backward, eyes burning. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean—”

“I know. I know you don’t.” He blows out a slow breath and shakes his head, hands pressing to his temples. I stay silent, barely breathing as he finally opens his eyes to look at me again. “Today was a difficult day for me, and my head is killing me. You’re shouting . . . it’s just making it worse.”

Something like guilt wriggles in my gut and I nod.

“If you were wearing your hearing aid we wouldn’t have this problem.” This time the words are less sympathetic. He waits—a long time, which makes me think he already knows.

“I lost it.”

My dad’s jaw clenches, like he’s furious, but he doesn’t get the chance to say anything—the doorbell is ringing, followed by a series of knocks I know well.

But before a smile can take over my face, Dad snaps his fingers and points for me to stay exactly where I am, before taking off to let Toren in. I can’t make out the words, only the low hum of their voices until they’re all the way into the kitchen.

“Kane,” he says, his hand settling onto Toren’s shoulder.

I chance a quick look at my best friend. He’s so tall, lanky, and thin—black hair a mess down to his shoulders. Normally he keeps it tied back in my father’s presence. His eyes are hard, but there’s a slight raise to his brow as he looks toward me. I stay quiet, hands tucked behind my back as I wait for whatever my dad will say next.

“Seems my daughter has misplaced her hearing aid, again.” He shakes his head, huffing slightly at me. “You know, I’d planned to give you a new stick, since you’re outgrowing the old one—maybe some new skates too. But I’m sure you understand.”

Toren nods and my dad claps him on the back. “Wonderful. You’re more than welcome to dinner with us, kid. I just have a few emails to finish up, but you two can wait for me in the dining room.”

It’s not a request. It’s a requirement.

Still, the second my dad leaves the room for his office, I dart toward Toren, sweeping my arms around his waist.

“I’msorryI’msorry,” I slur my words together, stomach churning at the entire situation. “I didn’t mean for him to find out I lost it and—”

“Lily, hey,” he breathes. “Calm down.”

“But . . . your stick and the skates . . . ?”

A bitter laugh leaves Toren’s lips and he shakes his head, pressing me back into his embrace with one hand up and down my back. “Your dad has enough money to buy an entire rink. He’s just . . . being an asshole, okay? He was never going to buy me skates or any of that shit.”

Shit. I repeat the curse on a whisper, laughing as I do. Toren laughs with me, and that’s enough to make me feel ten times lighter. Everything in my system calms, in the warmth of his arms and under the beaming ray of his beautiful smile.

“Why haven’t you been wearing it?”

“I wasn’t lying,” I whisper, pulling back only slightly. My hands fiddle with the front of his shirt, pinching the material between my fingers, unwilling to separate from him. We touch all the time, always if I get my way. My dad and I don’t hug, we never have . . . Toren is the only person who has ever been physically affectionate with me. “I did lose it. But . . . I just don’t like when people see it. It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s not,” Toren insists. “It’s super normal.”

I shake my head. I know it’s not normal. I’ve never seen anyone else with something like this in their ear—but I have also very rarely seen anyone outside of these walls and my school.

“Besides, if you’re not wearing it, how are you going to hear me play for you?”

My entire body lights up, eyes twinkling. “You got it?”

We’d gone to the pawnshop four times in the last month, every time my father left for work, to see the pretty acoustic guitar they were selling. One of the strings was broken, but Toren swore it was an easy fix. And I could tell he really wanted it.

Toren nods with a smile I wish I could keep on his face for forever. “Yeah. And I need both your ears working to hear how incredible I sound.”

I shake my head away from the memory. From the dinner that came afterward—the berating tone of my father’s voice, the silence of Toren’s . . .

Instead, I focus now on Holden. I step forward quickly, maneuvering to his other side as we walk toward the library. I ask him a question, but he readjusts before speaking.