Page 65 of Zero Confusion

“You’re not listening.” Katie sighed, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Sorry, what? Wait, where’d your mom go?”

Katie snorted and patted him on the shoulder. “Now I really wanna know what’s going on in your head. My mom bailed to give us some”—she made air quotes with her fingers—“privacy. She’s definitely spying from somewhere.”

Miles laughed, picturing Katie’s mom crouched behind a bush with binoculars. “She’s committed, I’ll give her that.”

“A hundred percent. I got a whole TED Talk about the importance of marriage. Apparently, I’m mere moments away from becoming an old maid.”

“And I’m your only hope.”

Katie gave him a playful nudge. “You’re a total catch. Age-appropriate, family-oriented, impressive GPA. She’d date you herself if she could.”

“How does she know my GPA?”

“I think it’s in the town newsletter.”

Miles sighed in resignation. He had a pretty good idea where Katie’s mom was getting both the information and the encouragement. A conversation with his mom was in order, and soon. “When are they gonna stop trying to plan our whole lives for us?”

“Don’t know about you, but I’m shutting that down the second I graduate.” Katie worried her lip with her teeth. “I just need to survive one more year without losing my mind.”

“I don’t think I can make it a year.” Even dropping out sounded better than the nonstop pressure. His mom had been dropping hints for years, but lately, she’d gone from subtle nudges to full-on strategic maneuvering, judging from the number of times he’d accidentally bumped into Katie while running errands.

The boom of fireworks exploding in the sky silenced every conversation in the yard, eliciting loud whoops and cheering. One after another, bursts of color lit up the night sky and overwhelmed the senses. Miles glanced around the excited faces, trying to find one in particular, but Zach was missing. Strange.

Miles moved slowly around the edge of the yard, scanning faces. Zach had probably stepped inside to get away from the never-ending throng of people wanting to talk to him. The thought came easily enough, but didn’t settle. He made another slow loop. Nothing.

It wasn’t a big deal. Zach could be anywhere—upstairs, in the kitchen, grabbing something to drink. Still, the longer Miles looked, the harder it was to ignore the growing feeling of dread slithering through his veins.

Zach wasn’t here.

A flash of movement grabbed his attention. Zach’s mom weaved around the tables and stopped in front of her husband. As she whispered in his ear, Miles glimpsed her tear-stained face.

Oh no.

He sprinted to the driveway, his heart pounding, a sinking certainty tightening like a fist around his gut. He didn’t want to look, didn’t want confirmation, but the chilling truth was impossible to ignore—Zach’s rental was gone.

Zach was gone.

Deep breaths, he needed to take deep breaths and calm down. Zach wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.

Miles scrambled for his phone, desperate to see a message, but there was nothing.

“Dammit, Zee.” He glared at the empty space, but he couldn’t be too mad. Judging by Mrs. Bishop’s face, something bad had happened. Maybe she’d somehow found out about Zach staying in Portland and they had a fight. Whatever it was, Zach must have had a good reason to leave early.

It was fine. They’d talk tomorrow and figure out a way forward, no matter what.

Everything would be fine.

Having a semblance of a plan eased his anxiety. He considered going back to the party, but the holiday mood was gone. All he wanted was to go home, burrow into his bed, and dream of a better future—one where Zach was by his side, where he belonged.

After sending Max a text to let him know he’d need to catch a ride home with their parents, Miles got into his truck and turned on the engine when a glint of metal caught his eye.

The earlier dread resurfaced tenfold, crushing Miles’s chest. He gasped for a breath that wouldn’t come, a choking sob ripping from his soul. A few hours ago, the horseshoe had been a symbol of love and hope, but now…

There was a folded piece of paper next to it, and Miles lunged for it, scanning the words over and over until they blurred, refusing to make sense.

He didn’t understand. He couldn’t. And yet, in some fucked-up, inevitable way, he did.