I’d braced myself since leaving the garage, waiting for Ryan to knock on the door and explain why he’d done what he had. Waiting for my phone to ring. Both were silent. Then I heard the Charger fire up. The engine was strong and loud. I peeked out and saw that it was Ryan. He backed the car up, then the growls it emitted grew softer and softer until I couldn’t hear them. Mark had seen me put Ryan’s things on the porch and had screamed at me, then cried. Now he was in his room refusing to eat and not speaking to me. “Give Mark time,” Shelby said. She and Brooklyn had both arrived when I’d called, crying, nearly hysterical, and barely able to talk. We’d binge-watched Vampire Diaries followed by old episodes of Gossip Girl and now with the television off, the silence was too heavy. Finally, Brooklyn said, “So that’s it?” “My mom was shot because of Ryan.” “Your mom was shot because someone’s an asshole,”
