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“Shitty friend.” Dean cut in.

“Super shitty.” I took a sip of orange juice and tried to keep going.

“I found that out because I went over to his house and found them together.”

“Found them, found them?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

I nodded.

“So that was the night everything changed for me. The night I exiled myself to Siberia or whatever you want to call it. I want to be somewhere that no one can hurt me. Untouchable. I don’t want to be alone, but lonely is a small price to pay for safe. If that’s what Siberia is, then I want it. I’ll take the ice.”

I took a deep breath, realizing that was the first time I had ever said any of that out loud to another human being. All of that belonged in my head, not out in the open, but it was too late to turn back now. Neither of us said anything for a long time until he put his hand on mine.

“I get it.”

I bit my lip and tried to meet his gaze.

“You do?”

He nodded.

“Yep. But Siberia sucks.”

“Maybe, but I don’t know anything else.”

“How old were you when that happened?” He asked gently.

“I had just turned seventeen.”

After a moment, he moved his hand and cleared his throat.

“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair as he went over the timeline in his head. He obviously knew when my dad died. “Are you ever planning on coming back from Siberia? Maybe even just for a vacation? I hear it’s pretty cold up there. You know,
Ivan Denisovitch
and all.”

I laughed lightly at the literary reference.

“I don’t know. Siberia’s good for me. I just feel like I would be awful if…” I trailed off. I wasn’t sure how to complete this metaphor.

“If you lived in Fiji,” he provided.

“Yeah,” I said. “
Fiji
. It might be too much of a shock to the system. I wouldn’t know how to live in Fiji. Homeostasis and all. Besides, I kind of had awful role models for parents and I think if I ever tried to be one, I would be really bad at it.”

He stopped and stared at me intensely and I wondered if I’d done something wrong.

“What about your dad?” he said. “He seemed like he did what was best for you.”

I nodded.

“He did. I mostly mean my mom. She wasn’t around much. After my dad died, I feel like I kind of raised myself.”

“I know the feeling,” he said, looking down.

We both sat in a contemplative silence for a few minutes and I picked at my biscuit again.

“So what happened?” I asked finally.

“With what?” His eyes snapped to mine.

“Your parents,” I said softly. “I mean, after.”

Now it was his turn to take a deep breath.

“Jenny and I went into the foster system after Dad went to jail. I was pretty messed up. I did some things I’m not entirely proud of.”

“So,” I asked. “How did you end up here?” Clearly he had figured life out at some point.

“When I was seventeen, someone came for me. He got me a job, got me clean, and helped me make something of myself. When I turned eighteen, I got Jenny out and became her guardian. I owe him everything.”

“Who was he?” I asked.

Dean shook his head.

“My guardian angel.”

That sounded cryptic.

“Where is he now?”

He shook his head and smiled sadly, and I understood. I put my hand back on the table on top of his, and he gave me a small smile.

When my eyes met his, I wished more than anything that I was brave enough to leave Siberia. But this was too much.
He
was too much. I couldn’t live through another Daniel, and something told me that losing Dean would be much, much worse.

WE FINISHED THE rest of breakfast. Dean picked up all of the dishes and washed them, leaving me feeling useless at the table.

“For the record,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “I don’t think you would be a shitty parent.”

All I could do was give him a complacent smile.

“I just don’t think I’m very good with kids.”

Oh shit. The kids.

“Wait!” I shot up out of my chair. “Where are the kids?” I looked at the clock. “Did they make it to school okay?”

He laughed so hard he had to set down the pan he was scrubbing. He turned off the water and dried his hands off on the towel hanging over his shoulder.

“Callie took them to school,” he said. “Thank goodness for suspensions, right?”

I nodded and rolled my eyes, sighing as I sat back down.

“Wait,” I said as I had another realization. “Where’s Jenny?”

“At school,” he replied, washing the dishes again. “She’ll be home in a couple of hours.”

I put my head in my hands.

“I
am
a shitty parent,” I said as I groaned. “I’m hungover. Parents aren’t supposed to be hungover. And I never came back last night, so Callie is going to think I’m an idiot again.”

He finished putting the dishes away and sat down at the table again.

“I think you’d be surprised at how many parents are hungover.”

I gave him a look. “Still. Shitty parent. Shitty parent award.” I pointed to myself.

“You live, you learn,” He shrugged. “You’re still only twenty-one. You’re allowed to make mistakes.”

“I’m not supposed to make mistakes like that when I’m supposed to be taking care of three people plus myself.”

“Hey,” he said, leaning across the table. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“But you were mad at me for hooking up with the asshole.”

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“I don’t really know if mad is the right word. It wasn’t my favorite part of the evening, that’s for sure.”

“What was?”

“What was what?”

“Your favorite part?”

He grinned.

“You,” he said. “In my bed.”

My jaw dropped and my cheeks reddened instantly.

“What?” he said, looking like he was going to burst out laughing at any second. “I never said I was a saint.”

I flashed back to the Stacia-in-the-steam-room incident.

“Oh, trust me,” I said, crossing my arms and mimicking his posture. “I remember.”

He stared at me across the table with a look I couldn’t quite place, but I was surprised when he didn’t look away. Most people do; they look away after about five seconds, seven at the most. Ten and it just gets weird, but it didn’t with him. We just stared at each other like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“So,” I said finally. “What happened?”

“What?” He blinked as if he were returning from somewhere else.

“Between the time that you got Jenny out and now. Don’t get me wrong, but when we met, it seemed like you had some things going on.”

“We didn’t meet that long ago,” he whispered.

“I know.”

He sighed sadly and shifted his weight. “I’m not going to make excuses. What you saw when you met me wasn’t entirely uncharacteristic of myself at that point in my life.”

“At that point in your life? Like you said, that was kind of recent.”

He leaned forward and put his hand lightly on mine.

“Trust me when I say it feels like an entirely different lifetime.”

“Okay,” I whispered. It was all I could do. His eyes were searching mine like he wanted to make sure I believed him, and he only looked away when it seemed like he had his answer.

I followed his gaze and realized I was still wearing his clothes.

“I should probably get back home,” I told him, pushing my chair back from the table and gesturing at what I was wearing. “Where
are
my clothes, by the way?”

He grinned his sideways smirk.

“Upstairs on my dresser.”

I gave him a look. “I’ll go change. How did I…” I trailed off and gestured to his shirt.

He looked like he was stifling a laugh.

“Kenzie helped you,” he managed. “Don’t worry.”

I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.”

I skipped up the stairway and back to his bedroom to change into my jeans and top from last night. I was glad I wasn’t wearing a dress and heels, because I might have preferred my walk of shame in his clothes than mine if that were the case.

I flipped my hair to the side and tried to comb it with my fingers when I noticed something strange in the mirror. There was a picture frame on his desk that looked familiar.

I was startled when he knocked on the door.

“Come in!” I called, flipping my hair back to normal. I still looked like a mess, but at least I wasn’t wearing his T-shirt and boxers anymore.

“I’ll walk you,” he said, staring at me with that strange expression again.

Part of me felt relieved because, for some strange reason, I didn’t want to leave him, but I felt silly making him walk me just up the street.

“You don’t have to,” I told him, picking up my purse. I didn’t need him doing me any favors.

“I want to.”

“Okay.” I swallowed as I wiped my hands on my jeans, suddenly nervous.

We walked in a comfortable silence back to my house, but I couldn’t help myself from wondering whether I should try to fill the silence. I knew I was overthinking it, but I didn’t want to ruin this with him. I wasn’t sure what there was to ruin at this point, but he was my friend who had just dealt with me all night after my stupid decisions, and then told me things hardly anyone knew at breakfast. He was something, that was for sure.

As we were walking, our hands lightly brushed one another. Instead of pretending like it hadn’t happened or that it had shocked him, he pulled my hand into his and laced our fingers like it was the most natural gesture in the world.

I rang the doorbell because I realized I still didn’t have a key, and luckily Callie answered. Again, I expected Dean to let go of my hand the second Callie came into view, but he didn’t. Instead, he greeted her and pulled me into the house when she opened the door. He didn’t say anything, but went straight for the pantry.

“You guys don’t have anything in here,” he said, pulling out boxes to look in the back. “How do you eat? I’ll be back at five for dinner. I’m making lasagna.”

Callie looked at me like we were both crazy.

“You can make lasagna?” I asked, just as confused as Callie was.

He shut the door to the pantry and nodded.

“You bet.” He took a step forward, kissed me on the forehead, waved to Callie, and left.

Neither of us moved.

“What just happened?” She asked me, putting a hand on her hip.

I pulled my jacket off.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” I told her truthfully.

“SO,” CALLIE SAID, taking a seat at the bar where she was eating a bowl of cereal. Dean was right. We really did need to go grocery shopping for real food. “Spill.”

I threw my coat on the back of the couch.

“I’m not really sure what there is to spill,” I told her honestly.

“What
isn’t
there to spill?” She brandished her spoon at me. “You didn’t sleep here and you came back holding his hand. That’s a
lot
of things to spill.”

I sighed. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

“Which part?” She shoved more cereal in her mouth.

“All of it,” I said. “I was stupid and was too sick to go home last night, and your guess is as good as mine as to why he was holding my hand like that.”