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I recognize a couple of them from the bar where I first met Margo. Her friends.

I don’t tell Marcus because he’ll want to interrogate them. I don’t tell Gabe because, well, it doesn’t matter.

Margo’s still gone.

I stay in the dish pit, away from the work, rinsing dishes mechanically.

When the dishwasher won’t do what it’s supposed to, I growl and slam my fists against it, over and over, until my knuckles are bleeding and the metal is warped.

After it’s over, I breathe hard, staring at the damage.

I told myself I’d never feel like this again.

Goddammit.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

MARGO

Marcus doesn’t speak the whole ride down the hill to my car. I try to talk to him. Try to apologize.

But he just stares out the windshield, jaw tight.

He doesn’t even say goodbye, just takes off as soon as I hop out of the truck.

Tears track down my face as I get into my car. I crank it up but just sit there, trying to stop crying.

The Sugarplums group chat has blown up with emojis and concern after they’d seen the comment.

I finally text: I need you guys. Where can we meet?

Hazel responds first: The diner.

Ivy answers: I’ll be there.

Joss sends a heart emoji and Del follows suit.

I draw in a shaking breath and wipe at my face.

Marcus had been angry. Cole had shut down. Gabe seemed to almost understand, but then again, he wouldn’t look at me when I left.

I drive to Moore’s Diner, the one Hazel runs for her family, and somehow make it there without going off the road despite my tears.

I can see them all at the corner booth when I pull up, and it makes fresh tears spring to my eyes.

I breathe in deeply through my nostrils like Gabe taught me, and it’s an arrow through my heart to think of them.

My phone rings. My heart drops when I see it’s my mother.

She’s seen the comment. Of course she has. Everyone has.

I turn off my phone, unable to talk to her.

My throat feels tight as I walk into the diner.

Hazel hurries over in her waitress uniform, her red hair coming loose from its bun. She folds her tall frame around me and rubs warmth into my arms. “You’re freezing.”

I hadn’t noticed until she said it.