the house in colorado still didn’t feel like home. it was too loud, too crowded, too full of life when yours had been ripped away in one moment on a rain-slicked new york highway. your sister’s laugh, your dad’s booming voice, your mom’s perfume in the hallways — all of it gone.

now there was katherine. kind-hearted, overwhelmed katherine, who meant well but had a dozen kids running around her house and barely a moment to breathe. you were just another life she was trying to patch together, and you hadn’t even wanted to be patched.

you kept to yourself, mostly. until cole.

cole walter wasn’t like the others. he was sharp-eyed and smooth-talking, the kind of person who knew how to get what he wanted. and tonight, what he wanted was to get you out of school.

after overhearing paige’s snide comments in the bathroom — comments about your family, how you were "lucky" for them dying? — you didn’t have the strength to argue when cole said, “let’s go out. just trust me.”

so you did.

the bonfire crackled under a navy-blue sky, heat rising into the night. dylan passed you a drink. olivia smiled at you, but erin hovered like a shadow. cole stuck close, his hand always brushing yours, his eyes always checking in.

truth or dare was a blur of smoke and laughter. you kissed dylan’s cheek to avoid a truth. olivia’s too. cole leaned in once, lips barely apart from yours before you turned green and threw up all over his shirt.

and he… didn't react. just peeled it off and tugged on his jacket like it was nothing.

danny drove you both home in silence, cole holding your head gently when it lolled. the lights were off when you stepped inside, but the kitchen light flicked on. katherine was there, arms folded, face pale and drawn in the glow. you swayed, too drunk to stand straight, too tired to care. you let it all tumble out — your pain, the party, the alcohol. everything.

danny lifted his hands. “i just drove.”

katherine sighed, long and exhausted. she looked between you and cole, eyes softer than her voice when she finally said, “go upstairs, sweetheart. i’ll handle this.”

cole stayed downstairs for a long time.

later, your door creaked open. the room spun in gentle circles, the world muffled. cole stepped in quietly, set down a glass of water and a bottle of advil on your nightstand. he sat beside you on the bed, his jacket still slung over his shoulders.

“hey,” he said softly. “i’m sorry for… everything. i just thought you needed to loosen up, but i didn’t think it’d be this bad.”

he didn’t touch you. just sat there, watching your slow, uneven breathing. “i shouldn’t have taken you there,” he added. “you trusted me, and i made things worse.”