TESSA.

“Get in. Your car is still in the shop and I am not late for weights because you missed the bus.”

Reed said it like a favor. He said it like he had not been watching me pack my bag for twenty minutes. My stepbrother. Mom’s new husband’s oldest. He had the truck running in the driveway, one wrist on the wheel, campus hoodie, that look that always made my stomach drop.

I got in.

Halfway to campus he missed the turn for the student lot.

“Reed.”

“Lecture can start late.”

He took the service road behind the athletic building. Dumpsters. No cameras that I could see. No other...