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Rory dropped what she was holding, her hands trembling. She just found her father.

* * *

After stuffing everything back into the box and shoving it in the corner it came from, Rory carefully climbed down the ladder and closed up the attic. Her hands were still shaking as she grabbed her things in the kitchen and headed for her room. Gabi was probably already at Wilson’s starting her shift, but just in case, she locked her door. Asking Gabi the truth was too risky, and she didn’t have the courage quite yet to take that risk. She would see what she could learn about Fred Barry on her own first.

She plopped down at her desk and opened her laptop, then searched his name. It was generic enough that thousands of results came up, so Rory tried Fred Barry Orlando and then Fred Barry Oak Creek High.

The results weren’t that exciting—just some football stats and a newspaper clipping about him making the All-State team in Florida. But she couldn’t find any pictures or links or social media profiles. The guy didn’t even have a LinkedIn.

She clicked her laptop shut and cupped her face in her hands. Of course finding him wouldn’t be that easy. She would have to try looking for more information about him in other ways.

But…did she even want to look for him? Her mind drifted to thoughts of her imaginary father, the one who was attentive and loving and always home and there for her. Yet her real father clearly didn’t want anything to do with her, and Gabi sure as hell hadn’t shared anything meaningful about him. But what if they were both wrong? What if as soon as Fred Barry saw her, saw how they shared the same thick mahogany hair and seafoam green eyes, he felt he was wrong all along and wanted to actually get to know his daughter?

It was a stretch—she knew that. But maybe…just maybe.

A movement at the window across from hers had her looking up from her hands. Tyler was home and shuffling around in his room, wearing a sky-blue polo and a pair of jeans. He was laughing at whoever was talking to him as he moved around, then stepped aside to make room for a beautiful tall blonde to enter.

Rory’s head pounded as she watched Zoe walk timidly around his room, her mouth curled into a genuine smile.

She didn’t realize she was staring until Tyler locked eyes with her. She wasn’t sure what to do. Wave? Flip him the bird? Cry and pound on her window and plead for him to come over?

All she wanted to do was talk to him about Fred Barry. She couldn’t bother Melanie right now—not when she was currently in her worst grief phase yet. She hadn’t seen her friend all week.

No, she needed Tyler. Needed to get his thoughts. He had always been the one she turned to when she thought about her father. Maybe he could help her find Fred Barry. Or…maybe he would tell her something wise about not going down that road, about how it would most likely break her heart.

But she didn’t have a chance to make any kind of gesture at him. Tyler broke their gaze first as he walked up to his window and closed the curtains, shutting Rory out from his world.

Chapter Eight

She barely slept—again. Thoughts about what Tyler and Zoe were doing alone in his room haunted her all night. She glanced periodically up at his window, hoping he’d pushed the curtain back open.

He never did. Surely Zoe had gone back home at some point. There was no way Mr. and Mrs. Chapman would allow her to stay over.

But Tyler kept the curtains drawn regardless.

Rory now sat on the bus, dozing off and on despite how rowdy the rest of the soccer team was as they traveled to their last game. Avalon was a thirty-minute drive away—not nearly long enough for Rory to get in a quality nap. Exhaustion seeped into her bones, and the piercing noises of her teammates screaming Taylor Swift lyrics didn’t help in the slightest. She should be screaming along with them, celebrating their last game together ever.

But after yesterday, she didn’t feel like celebrating. To be honest, she didn’t even feel like getting out of bed this morning.

The bus hit a bump, causing Rory’s head to bang against the window next to her. She groaned and rubbed her head. She’d been told her whole life that senior year was the best, that high school was supposed to be the “best years” of her life. So why then did she feel so miserable? And why was it over a guy she didn’t even like that way?

Gina plopped down next to Rory, shoving her in the ribs. “What’s up with you, Michaels? You’re usually the one belting ‘Cruel Summer’ louder than all of us.”

“Didn’t get much sleep,” Rory grumbled.

“Is it because of yearbook?”

Rory sighed. Right, yearbook. She still had that to worry about too.

“Yeah, just…feeling nervous,” Rory lied.

“Oh come on, you?” Gina said. “You’re, like, the most confident person I know.”

Rory snorted. “Me? Really?”

“Yes, really. The way you demanded colored pencils and then blew them away in less than ten minutes? That’s boss bitch energy.”

She chuckled. “You know, you really should have considered being a cheerleader, you’re good at it.”