MY JAW DIDN’T sting or anything. I don’t think Harry had ever hit anyone in his life before me, and it showed. After he hit me, Amanda came rushing to my defense, but that all changed on the way home.

“What did you say to him?” Amanda asked as she drove down South High Street. “What did you say to make Harry hit you?”

“Why does it have to be something I said?” I asked. “Couldn’t he have just hit me because he’s a jerk?”

“Harry may have a lot of faults, but he’s not violent.”

“Obviously you don’t know him as well as you thought. He’s still in love with you. Did you know that? He was staring at you all through dinner.”

“The way you’re saying that makes it sound like it’s my fault.”

“Maybe if you’d set some boundaries with him, not get so involved in everything.”

“Don’t put this on me with everything I already have to deal with!”

“Seriously, you don’t see it?”

“You know what my life is like? Every single day I cook and clean and take care of you, then go to work and baby my clients and their unrealistic expectations. When I get home, all I want to do is spend time with you, but I can’t because you’re in the basement doing whatever, and I end up watching TV alone. On top of all of that, there’s the general shit I have to deal with: the regional manager telling me to smile more, then to smile more authentically, whatever that means; the glances I get from all the men at work, sending the message they don’t think I’m as good at my job as they are. It’s exhausting. And don’t even get me started on all the creepy comments and looks I get outside the office. Sometimes, I just want to quit everything and crawl into bed for a week, but I can’t. If I did, everything would fall apart.”

“I don’t know why you’re getting so worked up. I’m the one who got hit, remember?”

“I just… I just can’t with you right now.”

Amanda didn’t say anything the rest of the way home, which was fine by me because I was still fuming about Harry. I knew I shouldn’t let him get to me. He was just a delusional bastard who couldn’t see his situation for what it really was. I think I was so worked up because Harry was still in love with Amanda. Even though I was talking to Jennifer, no guy wanted another guy making moves on his girl. What really got me was Amanda refusing to see Harry still had feelings for her. I was surrounded by people living in their own world.

And then there was all that stuff Sarah said about my dad. He wasn’t the greatest guy around. He had cheated on my mom with his accountant, and when he cheated on his accountant with a call girl, she reported him to the IRS for tax evasion. That’s when everything came out. I had just graduated from IU when he went to jail. He had placed everything in a family trust—the dealership, all his property—and named me as an executor to his estate. He didn’t trust me to run it on my own, so I had to drive two hours down to Branchville every week and give him updates on how the dealership and everything was going. It was probably the most I’d talked to him in all my life. I tried to get him to teach me how to run the dealership, but there’s so much that goes into it, it’s impossible to learn everything in two-hour intervals. He spent most of the time telling me all the dirty tricks he played on people, how he’d charge them for extra stuff off the books, like he was bragging about it. Before he went away, he’d always prided himself on looking slick. But when I visited him, his hair would be all messed up, and his prison jumpsuit hung loose on him on account of all the weight he was losing. Every week, after I’d leave, I’d be driving north on 37 thinking about how I didn’t want to wind up like him—a shriveled-up crook. Then he went and had a heart attack while he was still locked up, leaving me to figure out how to run the dealership.

I know I said my dad had died in his basement sitting in his recliner. That was a story I started telling myself, a way to cover up—in my mind at least—what a crook he’d been. I figured if I could rewrite the last few years of his life, I could move on without the truth of who he was being a constant shadow over me. Also, I knew the town would forget about him eventually, and when people looked at me, they’d stop seeing him. It worked too. Honestly, I hadn’t thought about him in a while, at least not that part of him, not until Sarah said something.

When I got home, I was so worked up I slammed the door to the basement, knowing there was one thing that could ease my mind. I plopped on the couch and texted Jennifer.

You would not believe the day I’m having. I just got ambushed by the entire family.

She started off with one of those frowny face emojis. Want to talk about it?

I told her everything that had happened, leaving out exactly what I’d said to Harry, and she texted back.

That sounds awful. I can’t believe they treat you like that. You deserve better.

You’re right. I do deserve better. Any suggestions?

There were three dots on the screen for a while, so I knew she was typing something. Then the dots disappeared and no message. Then they reappeared, and she started typing again. Finally, I received a text.

Let me think about that one.

I got all excited thinking about all the messages she didn’t send before settling on a noncommittal Let me think about that one and pulled a muscle in my stomach sitting up on the couch. I just knew all her deleted texts must have been stuff like, I can make you feel better or I’d never treat you like that or Why don’t you drive up here and I’ll show you my suggestions?

I would have, too. I would have driven up to Chicago right then and there if she had asked me to. I wouldn’t have even packed my bag, not even a toothbrush. Because at that moment, I was over all of it. Harry could have Amanda for all I cared. They were perfect for each other—two delusional bastards who thought the world revolved around them. I had something better lined up.

I decided as soon as Jennifer gave me the word, I was out.