“Logan...please...” She sags against West’s hold and West looks lost as to what to do. When I glance around the room, we all wear the mask of those who are lost. Abby doesn’t break. Not even when she was shot. Not even when we pulled her bound from the back of a car, but the truth—the truth terrifies her...her truth terrifies us.

I suck in a deep breath and jump off the ledge. “Abby sells drugs because she’s taking care of her grandmother. She’s sick, has Alzheimer’s, and for reasons Abby can explain if she wants, Abby refuses to put her grandmother in a nursing home. She sells drugs because that’s what her father did before he went to prison and Abby’s able to make enough money to care for her grandmother. Abby’s okay getting shot, getting kidnapped, dying because the one person she has in the world needs her. We can judge her. We can hate what she does, but ask yourselves if any of us would do anything different if the people we loved needed us.”

I purposefully meet Isaiah’s gaze. He’s drawn lines. Protects his friend, loves her like a sister, but stays away from anything associated with the drugs. He asked me weeks ago where I stood...if I was solid on where I draw my lines. “I’m solid in where I stand. It’s with Abby. She needs help and I’m going to give it. Where are you standing?”

Abby elbows her way out of Logan’s hold and places as much distance between us as possible. “I hate you.”

I work to keep my face blank. I’m not falling in love. I am in love. Abby hates me. I love her. My life truly is messed up. “Abby’s going to show me who she thinks shot her then I’m going to the police. In the meantime, we need to figure out how to make money for Abby. We do that, she won’t have a reason to sell anymore.”

Abby crosses her arms over her chest and smacks the back of her head against the wooden wall. “I seriously fucking hate you. You are absolutely dead to me. I’m not showing you the shooter, you aren’t helping me, and once we leave here I never want to see you again.”

I betrayed her. Spilled her secrets. Did something she never thought I would do. There’s no way to make this better. No way to win her back, but if I shared her secrets, I should be strong enough to spill mine.

“You were wrong on something, Abby.”

Abby chooses to stare at the ceiling over acknowledging me.

“Your secrets can kill you and...” my stomach bottoms out “...my secrets can kill me.”

Her head darts in my direction and I shift my footing as I have everyone’s undivided attention. I’ve kept this a secret for years. Too many years. Never wanting anyone to think differently of me, to treat me differently, to see me as broken...but I’ve broken Abby and it’s time to break me in return. “I’m diabetic.”

Abby’s forehead wrinkles and Ryan steps into my line of sight. “What do you mean you’re diabetic?”

“I’m diabetic.” I can’t meet his eyes. Can’t stand the wave of sickness crashing through me. “Type 1.”

Ryan’s eyes harden. He’s been my best friend for years. Him pitching. Me catching. Him always depending on me to tell him straight how things are. Me having the guts to tell him what no one else will. But I kept this a secret. I never trusted him to see past the diabetes.

“How long have you known? When did this happen?”

The easy answer would be to lie. To tell him I found out recently, but I’m not lying—not anymore. “Since I was seven.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ryan yanks down hard on the bill of his cap and turns away from me. Turns away. “Why didn’t you tell any of us?”

I meet Abby’s eyes and there’s no longer anger in them, just confusion...just pity. Out of all the times my blood sugar’s been out of control, I’ve never felt as unstable as I do now.

“Because I didn’t want the look you’re giving me.” I nod toward Abby. “The look she’s giving me.”

I snatch my backpack off the floor, go for the door and Isaiah grabs onto my bicep. “Where are you going?”

“Out. I need some air.”

Isaiah’s eyes are blazing. He’s just as pissed as Ryan. I should care more than I do, but seeing Abby pity me—I’m done. “Abby’s here for the week. If one person in this room gives her a ride back to Louisville, type 1 diabetes or not, I’ll kick their ass.”

Abby

My grandmother took me to church once. She lit a candle, got down on her knees and prayed.

Grams wasn’t a churchgoer, but Dad had been gone longer than normal and when he came back, he was in bed for a few days and I wasn’t allowed to see him. I understand now he was shot, but Grams just told me he was sick.

Sick.

On the first night he was home, he cried out twice in pain. I never knew my father could feel pain. He seemed too big for that. Too strong.

Scared of this monster of an emotion that had been ushered into my safe house, I had placed every stuffed animal I owned in the hallway and position them to face Dad’s room. I then dragged down my covers from my bed and slept outside his room. If Dad couldn’t fend off the boogeyman I was always afraid would sneak in at night and steal me from him, then I’d be strong enough to save him.

I wasn’t strong enough to save him. He’s in prison and there’s nothing I can do. Grams is too old and I can’t stop her from aging. Logan has type 1 diabetes. I don’t even know what that means except it being one more thing I can’t fix.