She looks from me to Caleb, probably wondering why he’s not sticking up for himself. I tilt my head, ready to ask her the same thing about Jeremiah.

“I don’t know you,” Cassandra says to me, “and you don’t know my brother.”

“But I do know Caleb,” I say.

She shakes her head. “He is not getting mixed up in that. Not again.” She takes off down the aisle.

I squeeze Caleb’s hand as we watch her disappear around the corner. “I am so sorry,” I whisper. “I know you can stick up for yourself. I just couldn’t stop.”

“People will think what they want,” he says. The confrontation over, I can see his calmness slowly returning. Over the years, he’s clearly learned to let these moments wash off his back, and now he smirks at me. “So, did you get it out of your system?”

“I was ready to take swings if it came to that,” I say.

“And now you know why I didn’t let go of your hand.”

Heather and Devon come up behind us. He’s carrying a basket with eggs, frosting, and sprinkles.

“Can we please go make cookies now?” she asks. She looks at our hands. “Where’s all your stuff? It was a short list!”

After gathering our items we walk to the checkout line together. Jeremiah, his mom, and Cassandra are two registers over. None of them acknowledge us, but the way they look everywhere but at us says everything.

“Doesn’t it bother you that he won’t even look at you?” I ask Caleb.

“Of course it does,” he says. “But it’s my fault, so let it go.”

“Are you kidding me?” I say. “It’s the three of them who should—”

“Please,” he says. “Let it go.”

I allow Caleb, Heather, and Devon to put things on the conveyor belt while I glare at Jeremiah’s family. Mrs. Moore looks over and does a double-take, obviously uneasy that I’m watching her.

“Come by tomorrow!” I shout. “We’re giving friends and family a discount.”

Cassandra narrows her eyes at me but keeps her mouth shut. Caleb pretends to be occupied with the gum rack.

Devon looks confused. “Can I get a discount?”

In the morning, I’m surprised when Jeremiah actually shows up at the lot with Cassandra. He looks like he just rolled out of bed, threw on sweatpants, a hoodie, and a ball cap. She looks like she woke up to an alarm, had coffee, breakfast, did her hair and makeup, and then got him up.

Jeremiah goes to investigate trees while Cassandra comes into the Bigtop.

“I’m assuming you came for the discount,” I say.

“My mom wouldn’t let us pass it up,” she grumbles, but I’m sure Cassandra tried.

“You’re welcome,” I tell her.

She lowers her head a bit, but still looks me in the eyes. “So why did you offer the discount?”

“Honestly, I was hoping your parents would be standing here so I could talk to them.”

She crosses her arms. “What could you say that hasn’t already been covered?”

“That Caleb would never would hurt anyone,” I say. “I get the feeling that hasn’t been covered.”

“You believe that?”

“Completely.”

Cassandra laughs. “You have got to be kidding me. Jeremiah watched him go after his sister with a knife!”

“I know. I also know that he regrets it every day,” I say. “He lives with it every day. His family lives with it.”

Cassandra looks down and shakes her head. “My parents will never be okay with—”

“I get that, but maybe they’re overdoing this protective thing,” I say. “My dad makes any guy who works here clean outhouses if he even looks at me funny.”

“This is a little different than flirting with someone. You know that, right?”

Behind her, Jeremiah walks into the Bigtop. He holds a tree tag in his hand but stays back from the conversation.

“I also don’t think it’s just your parents,” I say. “Jeremiah and Caleb used to be best friends, and they should still be best friends. They just never had a chance to figure things out before these lines were drawn.”

I wait for a response that doesn’t come. She looks at her nails, but at least she’s still here.

“You must see him at school,” I say. “Everything he does proves who he is now. Did you know he delivers Christmas trees to needy families? Do you know why? Because it makes them happy.”

She finally looks at me. “Or is it because he ruined his own family?”

I flinch.

She looks down and closes her eyes. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

I don’t know what to say. In a way, maybe she’s right. Caleb doesn’t give the trees hoping for gold stars. He’s hoping for peace, to balance his mistakes.

Jeremiah approaches. He puts a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Everything all right here?”

She turns to him. “What if it happened again, Jeremiah? What if someone pushes his buttons when you’re with him and he freaks out again? You think you’ll avoid getting dragged into that?”

“He made a mistake, and he’s paid for it,” I say. “All this time later, it still devastates him. Do you like being a part of that?”

She looks at Jeremiah. “Mom would never approve.”

Jeremiah looks at me. Without accusation, he says, “You think you know him.”

“I do,” I say. “I know who he is now.”

“I’m sorry,” Cassandra says. She looks from her brother to me. “I know you want this to be different, but I will always put my brother first.”

She turns and walks out of the Bigtop.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I watch Cassandra and Jeremiah get into their car, which now has a discounted tree strapped to the roof. Jeremiah has the passenger window down, his arm hanging out, and offers me a weary wave as they pull out of the lot.

He looks like I feel, but a part of me holds on to hope that the conversation will continue. One day, maybe someone will listen.

“What was that about?” Mom asks.

“It’s complicated,” I say.

“What is? Is this about Caleb, too?”

“Can we not talk about this?” I ask.

“Sierra, you need to talk to your father,” Mom says. “I keep telling him to trust what you’re doing, but if you can’t be open with me, I won’t do that anymore. Andrew told him—”

“I don’t care what Andrew said,” I tell her. “And you shouldn’t, either.”

She crosses her arms. “That defensiveness worries me, Sierra. Do you really understand what you’re getting involved with here?”

I close my eyes and exhale. “Mom, what would you say is the difference between gossip and relevant information?”

She considers this. “I’d say if the people you tell aren’t directly involved in any way, that’s gossip.”

I bite at my lower lip. “The reason I do want to tell you is because I don’t want you judging Caleb based on what Andrew said, because I guarantee he didn’t say it for your benefit. He said it to hurt Caleb, or to get back at me for turning him down.”

Now I can tell I’m really freaking her out. “That sounds like another story I need you to tell me.” She instructs me to find Dad while she gets someone to cover the register.

In the parking area, Dad and Andrew load a tree into the trunk of a woman’s car. Half of the tree sticks out from the trunk, so they use twine to keep the lid from flying up. The lady offers Dad a tip but he motions for her to give it to Andrew. After Andrew accepts the tip, he follows Dad back into the lot.

“Hey, honey,” Dad says. He stops in front of me and Andrew stops with him.

I look at Andrew and point my thumb over my shoulder. “You can keep working.”

Andrew gives a smug smile as he walks away. He knows he’s causing trouble. I guess that’s what you do when you like someone who doesn’t like you back.

“Sierra, that wasn’t necessary,” Dad says.

I suppress a well-deserved eye roll. “That’s why we need to talk.”

Mom, Dad, and I walk along Oak Boulevard leading away from the lot. Cars drive by and occasionally a biker pedals past. I take a deep breath and swing my arms, mustering the courage to begin this conversation. Once I start, it comes flowing out, and they let me say it all without interjecting. I tell them everything I know about Caleb, and about his family, and Jeremiah, and what Caleb does with the trees. For some reason, it takes me longer to get the story out than when Caleb told me. Maybe that’s because I feel the need to add so much more about who Caleb is now.

When I’m done, Dad’s frown is even deeper. “When I heard that Caleb attacked his—”

“He didn’t attack her!” I say. “He went after her, but he never would’ve—”

“And you want me to be okay with that?” Dad says. “It was so hard to let you spend time with that boy after hearing what he did, but I wanted to trust you. I thought you had common sense, Sierra, but now I’m worried you’re being naïve, making light of something that—”

“I’m being honest with you,” I say. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”