“I saw the guy on Facebook,” Amber’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

“What?” I looked at her.

“The guy walking beside you. When you were handcuffed in the blue dress.”

“Logan?” I frowned at her.

“Is that his name?” She returned her attention to her scrapbook, flipping the page. “He was smoking hot. Is he your new boyfriend?”

I studied her bent head before replying. “No.”

It felt weird talking about him here with Amber. He was part of another world. A different world.

And so are you. Now. I had another life. One I liked.

“Well, that’s good. Mom has been on the phone with Harris’s mom a lot lately.”

I tensed beside her. She kept talking as she flipped through her scrapbook, looking at photos she had doubtlessly looked at a hundred times. Amber in front of a limo with her boyfriend and another couple. Amber grinning as a corsage was slipped on her wrist.

I wondered if she ever got tired of looking at these photos.

Suddenly, I was glad that I had dated Harris. If for no other reason than that I followed him to Dartford and expanded my horizons and found friends like Pepper and Emerson and Suzanne.

And Logan.

“It’s just a matter of time,” she was saying.

“What is?”

“You and Harris. That’s what Mom thinks.”

I shook my head. “No. Not happening.”

She looked up. “Good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah.” She closed her book with a snap. “I always thought he was a prick. Walking around Muskogee with a huge ego because his dad is the mayor. I mean Muskogee is this big.” She pinched her fingers together in the air. “It’s not like he’s the president’s son or something.”

I smiled. “No. He’s not.”

When I saw that guy in the photo with you . . . I confess I was hoping you had moved on. Especially with someone as yummy as that.”

My mouth sagged. Maybe my little sister wasn’t such a Mary Sue after all.

A gentle knock sounded at the door. Mom pushed the door open. “Hey, girls.”

She might have been addressing us both, but her gaze was fixed on me. Mom crossed her arms and cleared her throat in that way she did when she was settling in for a long talk.

Amber rose and set her book back down on her desk, not missing the cue. She grabbed her keys and phone. “I’m going over to Jeremy’s.”

“Back for dinner,” Mom said.

We didn’t say anything for several minutes. Sitting on the bed, I listened to my sister back out of the driveway until her Prius faded from hearing.

It was a little bit after noon. Mom was off for the majority of the summer, but Dad was working. I did wonder why she didn’t wait for him to get home before having this talk. He might be my stepfather, but they had always handled the big conversations together. It gave me hope. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad since he wasn’t present.

“Georgia.” Mom pulled out Amber’s desk chair and sank down onto it. “I’ve taken these two days to cool down . . . I admit this latest debacle of yours greatly upset me. Me and your father.” She crossed her legs. “But you know I don’t believe in making decisions in the heat of anger.”

I nodded, relaxing. I liked where this was headed. She had cooled off. There was no real harm, after all. No charges had been pressed. It was just a misunderstanding. As for the fact that I had been at a “sex club,” maybe she could just pretend she never knew that. You know, like how she knew I was having sex and took me to the doctor to get me on the pill but a conversation about sex never actually took place.

“You’re going to withdraw from Dartford and move home.”

We stared at each other, her words sinking in. Home. Home. The word reverberated through me. I tossed it around and turned it over, tasting it in my head.

I glanced around us. According to her this was home. Only it didn’t feel like home to me anymore.

When I found my voice, it came out a hoarse scratch. “What?”

She uncrossed her legs and closed both hands primly around her knees. “It’s too late to apply to Auburn, so you can attend community college in the fall or intern at the bank. That might be great experience for the future. In the spring you can transfer into Auburn and finish your degree while living here.”

Pain slicked through my chest at her words. “You’d do this to me?”

“Oh, don’t look so stricken. I’m looking out for you. I always have. You’ve had this . . . side to you, Georgia.” She shook her head. “It’s always worried me.” She meant my father. I had his blood running through my veins.

Helplessness raged inside me. What had I ever done to concern her? Enjoy music? Play the guitar? Almost get into trouble with the law one time in twenty years?

“So you’re just going to plan my life out for me?” My heart galloped eighty miles an hour in my chest.

She cocked her head. “You don’t seem very capable of doing that yourself these days, Georgia.”

I opened my mouth to tell her that this was my life. That she couldn’t dictate my future, but then she added in succinct tones, “Let me be clear: This is not a suggestion, Georgia. You’re done at Dartford. We are no longer paying your way unless you do this. Your tuition. Your living expenses. It’s all gone. Oh, and your car isn’t in your name. That’s gone, too. Insurance. Everything. If you go your own way, you’re paying your own way.”

I sat there, the air sucked out of me, stunned.

Mom tsked. “Don’t look so miserable. This is for the best. There was a time when you cared about what I thought. You wanted to please me and listened to me.”

I nodded. I still did, but pleasing her was harder. Impossible maybe. Nothing I ever did seemed to be enough. And she didn’t really mean listen . . . she meant obey.

She continued, “You’ll see, Georgia. Harris will be home in two years, and he’s already expressed to his mother that he can still see the two of you settling down someday. Isn’t that great? You’ll be here waiting for him after he graduates from Dartford.”

I stared at my mother in disbelief. This was who she thought I was. A girl who would live at home, waiting for Harris to take her back on his terms when he was ready?

Mom thought that was good enough for me. That I couldn’t possibly want more? Or deserve more?