“Leave the door open," my dad said, the second most common warning in his arsenal. Right behind, "Nash, go home.”

“His kisses were so mind-numbing that when Blake said, “Car door,” it took Livia a few seconds to remember she spoke English.“Dad. Oh. My dad’s home.”

“Hi." Paul said from her couch, flooding her system with adrenaline. He'd kicked off his shoes and was lounging there as if he had the right to be in her home. "I let myself in. You left the balcony door open." Andrea stopped in her tracks and it took a few seconds to find her tongue. "I never leave my doors unlocked or open." she paused, "and we are three stories up.”

“I knew I was only getting myself in more trouble. Lori’s dad unballed and balled his fists, daring me to talk back. I was beyond caring. I was right and he was wrong. Isaid, “Of course I’m going to see her. I live next door.”“Not for long,” he shouted. “Lori, go with Frances. Go home.”I balled my own fists then. Now it sounded like Lori was a dog.Lori gave me a wide-eyed warning look, then obediently jogged a few steps forward and walked with Frances toward her house.Her dad turned to me. “You. Follow me.”“Woof,” I said.”

“This felt right. Not just leaving, but how I was doing it. Without regret, without second guessing. And with Wes right there, holding the door open for me as I walked out into the light.”

“Most days I go home cryingand my dad tells mewelcome to the real world.”