Chapter 2

Ethan first met Jenny on the day I brought him home to meet my parents, right after we'd finished our SAT.

Back in high school, my mom had rented this tiny apartment in an old neighborhood near campus for us. Jenny's family lived right next door to us.

Jenny came from a tragic background. Her dad was a drunk, and her mom was abusive. At just eleven years old, Jenny was basically their personal punching bag. The walls in that building were practically made of paper, so my mom and I heard every scream and sob.

I tried calling the cops once, but it just made things worse. The second the police left, her parents would take it out on her twice as hard. We stopped reporting it. With my dad running his farm stay out in the countryside, we didn't exactly have backup if things went south.

All we could do was sneak her food—some milk, a loaf of bread, and whatever we could spare to keep her going.

The day I brought Ethan home, I'd specifically chosen 3 PM to avoid running into Jenny's parents.

But I never expected that not only would they be home, but they'd be beating Jenny so viciously.

The wailing, begging, and cursing just kept going without a break.

Ethan's expression grew colder and colder.

In the end, he called up his buddies, and together they stormed in to rescue Jenny.

When they brought her to us, she was barely conscious, clinging to Ethan's shirt like it was the only thing keeping her alive, making these broken little whimpers.

After that day, Jenny became a permanent fixture in our lives.

She latched onto Ethan hard, which at first I didn't mind. Hell, I felt awful for her. After everything she'd been through, she deserved some kindness. I was happy to share whatever warmth we could give her.

But compared to how much she relied on Ethan, it was obvious she was hostile toward me.

I wrote it off at first—she was just a messed-up kid acting out, right? Kids got weird attachments sometimes for no reason.

Then I walked in on twelve-year-old Jenny confessing her feelings to Ethan, and suddenly none of it was cute anymore.

On Ethan's twentieth birthday, twelve-year-old Jenny spent twenty-eight grueling hours on a hard train seat, traveling over twelve hundred miles just to reach the city where Ethan and I lived.

When Ethan picked her up at the train station, he was clearly moved. He grabbed her little bag, ruffled her hair, and kept calling her his sweet girl.

I hung back, watching them—and that's when I noticed it. Every now and then, Jenny would glance back at me, her eyes sharp with something that looked a lot like resentment. For the first time, a flicker of unease settled in my chest.

Trying to push down the uneasiness in my heart, I kept telling myself I was just overthinking it—she was just a kid, after all.

But that night, I couldn't pretend anymore.

Jenny confessed her feelings to Ethan.

In the dimly lit hallway, Ethan was a little drunk, slumped against the wall, his mind hazy.

Jenny was huddled in his arms, her shoulders trembling as she sobbed in hiccups.

She cried, "Ethan, can you even see me? I love you. I really do."

Ethan ruffled her hair and laughed. "Oh, what do you know about love? You just think I'm good-looking, huh?"

He turned and spotted me at the corner. Pushing Jenny away, he staggered over and pulled me into his arms. Then, looking back at Jenny, he said, "See? This is my real love. So cut it out, okay? If you upset her, you'll have me to answer to."

Back then, because Ethan had my back like this, any sense of jealousy or worry I had just melted away.

Even long after, whenever we brought it up, Ethan and I would always end up cracking up about it.

"Face it," he'd say, smug as ever, "this charm of mine? Deadly at any age."

At the time, neither of us thought much of it. We just saw it as a funny little blip in our lives.

I had no idea it would haunt us for the next ten years.