After I found the note in the rocking chair in place of my mother the morning my life changed forever, I remember reading the words on the paper over and over again in utter disbelief.

I just couldn't believe that the words were real. Maybe that's not true. Maybe I just didn't want to believe they were real. Either way, I was in shock. It was like time was moving in slow motion around me. Everything seemed watered down, including my emotions. It took a long time for everything to process, therefore making time feel like it was moving as slowly as possible.

I remember exactly how I felt when I read Mom's letter, but I still don't know how to describe my emotions. This happened four years ago, but the only thing that has come with time is grief. When I get to thinking about the day everything in my life went wrong, my memories begin to  feel fuzzy. I still haven't managed to wrap my head around all that happened, especially everything that happened that morning. Maybe I never will. Maybe I don't want to. Because with understanding comes accepting, and I'm still not ready to accept the truth.

I can recall what Mom's letter said, but not in full detail. I remember reading the words I needed to get away, be back soon, and I love you both. I don't have the letter any more. Even if I did, I don't think I would want it. It would hurt too much to have to see that simple piece of paper that managed to wreck not only my life, but my entire family's.

When Dad finally came down the stairs that morning, he found me standing in front of Mom's rocking chair, staring at the piece of paper covered in Mom's handwriting. I remember hearing him ask me what was wrong. Instead of answering him, I just handed him the note. It felt good to get that awful piece of paper out of my hands. In a way, it was almost freeing. Some people say seeing is believing, and not having to see the words written on that paper meant I didn't have to believe they were real; that what I knew to be happening wasn't real.

But it was.

Dad reread the letter about as many times as I did. I remember watching his expression go slack, his blue eyes cloud and widen in disbelief. He clutched the paper in his grip so hard his knuckles turned white. Scared is the only word to describe my father in that moment. My dad looked scared. Mom wasn't stable. She hadn't been for years. And just like that, she was gone, out in the wind all by herself. It was no wonder my dad was scared. I was, too.

Within seconds, his fear morphed into anger. Veins bulged in his neck and his fists clenched so tightly they wrinkled Mom's note. Before that day, I'd never seen my father so angry. I don't think I've seen him angry since. It was like all of the anger in his body was drained that day, and now my dad is incapable of producing anymore.

The first thing Dad did was rip the note to pieces. This didn't bother me. I didn't want that note. I never wanted to see it again. I didn't want my mom to just be . . . gone. Then Dad attacked the rocking chair. I remember the way Dad sent the chair flying with his foot, smashing it against the fireplace. In a way, it was a relief to watch that stupid chair break. It had held my mother captive too many nights to count.

When Dad's rage was finally over, he fell to the ground with his head in his hands and cried. I don't know how long he cried, because time was still moving so slowly to me. I just remember the way his broad shoulders shook, like he was no longer in control of his body. It was almost shocking to see my father so vulnerable, as up until that point he'd been handling everything we'd had to live through so strongly. Seeing my father cry like that had been almost like a wake up call to me, reminding me that even the strongest of people have their weak moments.

The rest of that day moved slowly. Everything felt foreign. Mom was gone. We had no clue when she was coming back. I don't know what Dad thought about Mom's disappearance, but I refused to believe that she wasn't coming back. Every morning in the days that followed, that was the first thing I asked my dad: "When is Mom coming back?"

I would have never admitted it to my dad, but part of me was angry, too. It was a terrible thing to think, but I was mad at my mother. Mad at her for leaving. Not just for leaving the house, but for leaving. Ever since she heard the news about her miscarriage, part of her had disappeared, and Dad and I were left wondering if Mom would ever come back. When she actually left, we had to ask ourselves that question in the literal and figurative sense.

But, mostly, I was mad at my mom because I hadn't been enough. I hadn't been enough as an only child. I hadn't been enough to make her happy again after the news of her miscarriage destroyed her. I wasn't even enough to make her stay in the first place. She just . . . left me. Without even saying goodbye.

As much as I hated the fact, I knew part of me could never forgive her for that. Mom had broken our hearts, and it was up to me and Dad to pick up the pieces.

I guess I'm still picking mine up.

• • •

A week after first moving to town, I can honestly say I feel like I've lived in Aster Pines my whole life.

It's a weird thing to admit, as I'm not used to the feeling of belonging. I hadn't expected to like living here. Really, I hadn't expected to like anything since Mom left. But I really do like living in this small town, as there's something about the place I find comforting. Plus, it makes Dad happy being back in his hometown. That's enough to keep me here for years, as all I've wanted for my father is for him to find the happiness he deserves.

Everything about Aster Pines feels normal to me. I have friends that I laugh with in class and eat lunch with. I stop by the gym to see my dad every other day, which is nice. Sometimes I even visit Elena in the front office, who never fails to make me laugh by telling me stories about my dad when he was my age.

The only thing I don't like about Aster Pines so far is everyone's obsession with Jack Crawford. It doesn't matter whether I'm at school, the store, or home, I can't escape him. At school, the girls fawn over him like he's a puppy. At home, my dad can't stop talking about him, assuring me that Jack will most definitely play for the NFL as soon as he leaves college.

It's exhausting. When it comes to the Crawford men, I much prefer Lucas.

"Ugh," Lana groans, taking her usual seat in front of me at our table in the cafeteria by the window.

"What now?" I ask with a teasing grin. Somehow, I've become used to smiling in the past week. It's nice having something to smile about again; to feel normal for even just a few moments.

"Let me guess," Lucas says, sliding into his usual seat next to me. "A guy asked you out, but you're too nice to say no?"

"Please." I roll my eyes at Lucas, offering him a smile at Lana's expense. "If a guy asked Lana out, she would say yes even if he was the joker."

Lucas laughs at this, biting down on his lip ring. "You're right," he agrees, grinning at me as we share a knowing look.

"That is not true," Lana mumbles, rolling her dark blue eyes playfully. "I have some standards. Not much. But some."

"Okay," I murmur, sharing another glance with Lucas before asking, "Then what's wrong this time?"

"You two are acting like I complain about everything." Lana glares at us, blue eyes wide in hope that we'll deny her statement.

Lucas and I simply laugh, not denying anything. "Maybe because you do?" we say in unison, which just makes us burst into laughter all over again.

"Technically, I was going to complain. School lunch sucks." Lana slides her tray away from herself as she scrunches her nose, expression full of disgust.

I laugh lightly as I mutter, "All that, just to state a fact everyone already knows?"

"Look," Lana mutters under her breath, gesturing to the center of the cafeteria. "It's Aster Pines's cutest couple." She's being sarcastic, so I know without having to look that she's talking about Jack and his girlfriend, Lacey.

I can't say much about Lacey, besides the fact that she's disgustingly pretty. She's the all-American type, with long honey blond hair and sky blue eyes. She's the literal cheerleader to Jack's football player.

Lucas and I turn around in our seats, only to find the two Lana pointed out to us making out. Lucas rolls his eyes and pretends to gag, and I have to admit that his reaction is spot-on.

"Get a room," Lucas mumbles under his breath, turning back to the table and away from his cousin sucking face with his girlfriend.

"Hey!" I cry loud enough to grab Jack and Lacey's attention, feeling a sudden burst of confidence ripple through me. "People are trying to eat, so could you just not?"

Lacey rolls her eyes as she looks up and glares at me, pulling herself out of Jack's lap pointedly. Jack merely meets my gaze with a smirk, glancing at me as if he finds me funny. I quickly tear my gaze away from his and turn back to Lana and Lucas. Still, I can feel Jack's eyes on me, burning into my skin and begging for me to turn around and face him again.

"They are so gross," Lana grumbles, her words and tone making Lucas burst into laughter from his spot next to me.

"You only think that because you have a crush on Jack," Lucas teases.

To this, Lana rolls her eyes and sticks out her tongue. She doesn't bother to say anything, which leaves me wondering if Lucas isn't wrong.

"She can't help it," I play along, unable to hold back my smirk. "Everyone around here has a crush on Jack Crawford."

"Including you?" Lucas raises his eyebrow at me as he asks the question, looking as if he already knows the answer.

"I'm an exception," I explain, shrugging as I do so. "I'm not from here, so I haven't been put under the Crawford spell. Yet." I add the yet for good measure, just to make Lucas laugh.

"Okay," Lucas agrees, resting his chin on his hand as he leans in closer to me. "So you're telling me that you don't find Jack attractive? Not one bit?"

I smirk at him. "I'm not immune to the Crawford men's charms, Lucas." I can't believe the words come out of my mouth, but they do. I want to blush, but for some reason I can't. Maybe because I mean the words, or maybe because Lucas is looking at me like he knows exactly what I mean, so there's no point in lying now.

"Oh, really?" Lucas questions, grinning deviously. "So you're saying that you are a Crawford groupie?"

"I think you know exactly what I mean."I hold his stare as I say the words, my tone more suggestive than I mean for it be.  Am I flirting with Lucas? Have I entered an alternate universe where I, Morgan Scott, flirt with boys? What is going on here?

"Gross, cut that out," Lana cuts in, wrinkling her nose as she shoots glances between Lucas and I. "I don't need that from you two. Lacey and Jack are more than enough for one lunch period, trust me."

I roll my eyes, but for some reason can't hold back a smile. I don't know what has gotten into me, and I definitely don't know what's scarier: the fact that I just flirted with Lucas, or the fact that I don't regret flirting with Lucas.

Someone please help me.

"Well, I've gotta go," Lucas blurts, rising from his seat and reaching for his bag. His hand brushes against my leg as he does so, and I begin to wonder if he did that on purpose. "Catch you later?" Lucas's words have always been for both me and Lana, but today he looks directly at me as he says them.

I nod and watch as Lucas walks off, wondering who I've become in the past few weeks. I have never, ever been the kind of girl to flirt with boys. I've never been one to step out of my comfort zone. Both of which I basically just did when I was talking to Lucas. This whole thing is weird.

But maybe it's good, too.