Chapter 1

I had a dreadful sense of direction. Even a place I'd visited ten times could leave me completely lost.

So Lucas Reed spent an entire week drawing a hand-drawn map of every street around our campus.

There were no compass directions marked on it, only handwritten notes such as "the convenience store with a yellow dog outside," and "the old man with the terrible sushi stall."

He ruffled my hair and said, "What would my girl do without me to look out for her?"

Then my best friend, Sophie Lane, returned from overseas.

During our graduation trip, Lucas told me to get out and check if the car had broken down.

The moment I stepped outside, before I could steady myself, the car pulled away sharply.

He sent me a text: [There's a rest stop three miles up the road. Sophie and I will wait for you there. She is right. If we do not push you, you will never learn to find your way.]

I walked for an hour in the pouring rain, drenched and disoriented, before Lucas sent a second hand-drawn map.

It had arrows marked on it, with a cute smiley face drawn beside them. [Follow this map. You will arrive in twenty minutes.]

My calves throbbed with every step, and I wandered further and further off course until I found myself in a dead end.

I called Lucas, but Sophie's bright, lilting laugh came through the line instead.

She trilled, her voice thick with smug delight, "Anna, congratulations on missing the turn.

"Lucas and I made a bet on whether you'd notice he had purposely drawn the arrows backward.

"I bet you wouldn't, and I was right. I know you better than he does."

"So for the rest of the trip, Lucas gets to spend time only with me," she went on breezily, no trace of guilt in her tone. "Bringing you along is far too much trouble, after all."

Then Lucas's indulgent chuckle came through from beside her. "A bet's a bet. You call the shots."

Relying on someone came at a steep price. The moment they withdrew their support, you were left adrift, with no direction to hold onto.

I brushed the tears from my cheeks.

This time, I would find my own path.

*****

By the time I stumbled home, navigating by GPS and tripping over my own feet, it was already the middle of the night.

The wrong turn Lucas had sent me down led right past an abandoned factory.

When I fell, a piece of rebar slashed my ankle, narrowly missing a full puncture through my foot.

Blood and muddy water dripped onto the floor. I was so exhausted I could not take off my shoes. I propped myself up against the shoe rack, trying to steady myself.

Mom freaked when she saw me.

She hurried over to steady me. "Anna, what on earth happened? Wasn't Lucas supposed to take you two on a road trip?"

I stared down at the torn flesh of my ankle and told her everything that had happened.

The light in her eyes slowly faded, replaced by growing disbelief.

She murmured, "How could this happen? Before your SATs, he went out of his way every day on his bike to make sure you would not be late."

Her voice wavered a little. "And when you got lost in college, he was so worried he almost called the police."

She added, "He said he would buy a house in a neighborhood so familiar you could find your way home with your eyes closed."

Her hands shook as she wiped mud from my face. "I watched that boy grow up; how could he turn out like this?"

I cut her off. "Enough, Mom. I wanna go study abroad."

She gently patched me up, fussing over my injury.

"Alright, I'll take care of everything. Let's put some real distance between us and all this," Mom said softly.

In the middle of the night, my wound got infected, and I spiked a fever of 102.2°F.

Half delirious, I heard Mom on the phone in the living room.

"Lucas, you said you would look after Anna. That is the only reason I let her go with you. Her foot was nearly crippled. Is this what you call taking care of her?" Mom snapped.

Lucas's voice was muffled on the other end, but Mom was so furious she slammed the phone down.

My phone buzzed next to my pillow.

Lucas texted: [Your mom called and lashed out at me.

[Anna, I never thought you would be so fragile as to develop a fever.

[I won't leave you alone again, alright? Recover soon.]