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ridiculous.”
    “I know, but without witnesses, their hands are tied.”
    Chase’s expression turns thoughtful then his frown deepens. “You and Ryan aren’t the shithead’s only victims, are you?”
    “No, there’s someone else. But he won’t tell the cops. I think he’s scared.” I don’t blame him. Alejandro’s fourteen, and only a year older than when Frank first sexually assaulted me. He doesn’t want anyone finding out what Frank did. Before Amber, I spent the past six years screwing any hot girl willing to spread her legs for me, to prove to myself I’m not Frank. To prove to myself I wasn’t messed up like Ryan—except, I was equally messed up. It took Amber for me to realize that.
    “You need to convince him to talk.” Chase releases a long, deep breath. From his stiff stance, it’s obviously not enough to ease the tension building in him. “Look, I never knew about what Frank was doing to you and your brother, not until you told me. But I knew something was up with you. I’ve known for years. You’ve been set on self-destruct for quite some time. At least you were until Amber came along. But if you don’t convince the other guy to step forward, he could wind up like you and Ryan, except a lot worse.”
    “I thought your major was engineering.”
    A puzzled expression crosses Chase’s face. “It is.”
    “Then why do you sound like a fucking psych major?”
    He laughs, erasing the last of the tension. “I guess that’s from hanging out with Jordan.”
    A smile quirks on one side of my mouth. “So, what’s going on with you two anyway?”
    He backs away. Then turns and walks toward his room. “Nothing,” he calls back. “We’re just friends.” Jordan might have started off as Amber’s closest friend when they began college last semester, but she and Chase have been spending a lot of time together lately, beyond when the four of us hang out as a group. Either those two are in denial about their feelings for each other, or they’re lying to me and Amber.
    “Whatever.” I check my watch. “I’ve gotta get outta here unless I want to be late for my exam.” I leave the apartment and head for the stairs. Before I get far, the eighty-year-old from next door emerges from the elevator.
    “What did the police officer want?” she asks, eyeing me as though I’m a dangerous criminal, except she’s the one who looks ready to attack me with her overstuffed purse and rolled up newspaper.
    I don’t bother with a reply. Why can’t she be one of those sweet grandma types you see on TV?
    “We don’t tolerate your kind in the building,” she calls after me, her voice paper thin from years of use yet loud enough to be heard halfway down the hallway.
    Sighing, I turn. “And what kind is that?”
    Her gaze sweeps over my body, taking in my scuffed military boots, jeans torn at the knees, and the ski jacket I bought at a thrift store three years ago. It’s not ratty or anything. When I got it, it looked as though the previous owner had worn it maybe a handful of times.
    She slits her eyes. “Trouble. That’s your kind. Trouble and heading nowhere in life.”
    I could tell her she’s wrong. She’s describing my parents, not me. I’m going to be an engineer one day, which would have made my brother proud. I plan to make the most of my life, something he never had the chance to do.
    I could say all that, but I don’t. Walking backward, I call out, “I guess there’s nothing else to say then.”

Chapter Three
    Amber
    “Amber?” Emma’s voice breaks through the fog in my head.
    I blink, then snap out of my frozen state. Both the salesclerk and Emma are watching me, waiting for my answer.
    “Sorry, what did you say?” I ask, wrapping my arms around me to hide my slight trembling.
    Her pale eyebrows draw together. “Are you okay?”
    “I’m good. I zoned out, that’s all.” Something I’ve been doing a lot since last spring. I shrug as if it’s no big deal, and inventory what