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I didn’t want her to talk to him about that—but there was nothing else I could say. “That’s a good idea.”

We spent the next hour going through some of the photographs I’d developed, a welcome levity slicing through the sour mood. She flipped through the stack, one after the other, her smile brightening with added color.

There was a picture of Tara with a cheesy grin, a pencil clamped between her teeth. A self-taken photo of both of us making a kissy face at the camera in the front seat of her car. Whitney reading by the fireplace, her lips turned up with wonder. Ladybug on her back in the snow, paws lifted like she was trying to morph into a T. rex. Reed and Tara on Prom night, followed by another of them hugging, her glittery curls in motion. I’d taken the camera from Whitney, trying to capture a less-posed moment.

She lingered on that one. “This is a great shot,” she said, emotion infecting her voice. “I don’t remember you taking it. Dad doesn’t like being in pictures.”

“That’s why I took it.” My words were a fusion of nostalgia and melancholy. “No matter what happens, we’ll always have these moments. They’re more than memories this way. Memories fray and falter, but pictures don’t. They just are. You never have to question them.”

“Can I keep some of these?”

“Of course.”

I made sure to give Reed the photograph of me, blissfully sunny-eyed and lovesick, sprawled out across his bed sheets. A forever memento. No matter what happened between us, he’d always have concrete proof that I was real. That I was once his.

I never wanted to be the memory that frayed or faltered.

Tara stacked the photos beside her on the nightstand, then soon fell asleep while the sun fully rose. I just lay there, stewing in the unknowns of my cloudy, murky future. I couldn’t turn my mind off. Couldn’t turn the pain off.

Maybe there was no calm before the storm.

There was only the storm, the aftershocks, and our broken bones scattered in its wake.

My smile was as close to beaming as it could be as I pranced out the double doors and into the late-summer sunshine. A camera strap dangled around my neck and a backpack bounced between my shoulder blades. I’d just completed my first training stint at the banquet hall in preparation to help capture a wedding in two weeks.

The day had been filled with excitement as I’d proudly showcased my passion, impressing Monique and the rest of the staff. My knowledge was vast, considering I’d accumulated plenty of hours at libraries, darkrooms, and photo labs over the past year, eager to intake everything I possibly could. Lighting, camera settings, composition. Exposure, shutter speed, aperture. Every shot required careful consideration and precision, making each photograph a labor of love and craftsmanship.

I took pride in my work, and I was confident it showed.

My new used Camry sat idle in the parking lot, an ugly shade of taupe decorated with rust and old bumper sticker residue. I’d saved every penny from my prior animal hospital job, earning enough for a down payment on the junky vehicle, while also having a little left over to put toward rent. Tara and I had already found a roommate to take the second bedroom.

Things were looking up.

And then I looked up—and spotted Tara leaning back against a cherry-red convertible, waving at me across the parking lot.

My smile widened. “Hey,” I greeted, approaching her in my sandals and pale-yellow sundress. “What are you doing here? And who’s car is that?”

“Josh’s.” Her eyebrows waggled. “He let me borrow it while I get my brakes fixed, so I’m heading over to Dad’s apartment to talk about the move. Want to come with?”

I blinked at her, anxiety curling like a fist around my lungs. “Oh.”

This was not a conversation I wanted to be privy to. I’d rather be a fly on the wall. An inconspicuous ant skittering across the carpet, taking in the sights and sounds without being noticed. Witnessing Reed’s tall tales and fabrications firsthand, all while knowing I was the reason for his exit, was a torture I wasn’t mentally prepared to deal with.

Trying to sway her in a more palatable direction, I gripped both straps of my bookbag. “Are you sure you don’t want to go alone? This feels like a private moment.”

“No way. You’re part of the family,” she said, laughing like my statement was outrageous. “Besides, you need to take a ride in this thing. It’s lifechanging.”

My nose scrunched up, and I scratched at my cheek. “I just think?—”

“Come on.” She snagged me by the wrist and hauled me forward. “I only have these wheels for the day. Let’s break some speed limit laws on the way over, then I’ll drive you back to get your car.”

Out of arguments, I trudged around the front of the convertible and hopped inside the passenger seat, my whole body sagging with surrender. I tossed my items in the back and buckled my belt, glancing at Tara as she revved the engine. Her eyes sparkled with vibrant green flecks. Her glossy lips twitched with anticipation.

And then we were careening out of the parking lot, the wind in our hair, the sun warming our faces, and for a brief moment, I allowed the sweetness to find me.

The open road stretched out before us as Tara flipped on the radio to full-volume and fell back against the seat. Gangsta’s Paradise blasted through the speakers mid-song, and we both tried to ramble out the lyrics, laughing through our tied tongues and mismatched words. She punched the air with her fist, the motions heightening with each beat. I giggled until my belly ached.

A sense of peace found me, and I realized that maybe there was no calm before the storm…because there was no storm.

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