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look away. “I don’t know how families work.”
    I shouldn’t be embarrassed. I’ve been an orphan for the better part of my life. I still can’t look him in the eye.
    He points behind me. “There is a blue cookie jar on the top shelf of your cabinet.”
    I follow his finger to the kitchen cabinets and then turn back to him. “Go look in it.”
    I walk by him, dodging boxes along the way until I open the cabinet doors. In the very last one I see a chipped blue jar stuck in the back corner. I climb up on the counter to reach it. I grab it, sitting down so I can hold it more securely. I glance at Reid, standing at the counter’s edge watching me, before I stick my hand inside. My fingers hit metal, and I can tell by the jingling sound it makes that the jar is full of keys. “Mine is the one with the giant R painted on it.” He crosses his arms. “Feel free to break in anytime.”
    I clamp the lid shut. “You don’t mean that.”
    He shrugs. “You’re right, I don’t. But I’m keeping my key.”
    “Fine.” I jump off the counter. “Keep your stupid key. However, I can’t be held responsible for any bodily harm I cause you when you use it against my will.”
    He rolls his eyes. “You caught me off guard.”
    “That’s the excuse I’d use too.”
    He exhales noisily, turning his attention across the room. He winds his way around some boxes until he stands before the large wooden cabinet in the corner. I know I have no right, but I suddenly feel possessive of it. I don’t want him to touch it. I especially don’t want him touching my letter that remains taped to the front door. I bite back the urge to order him away from it.
    He runs his hands along the outside, searching for the handles, but it’s hard to see with such dim lighting. I spot my flashlight on the far edge of the counter and grab it. I use it to tap his shoulder, offering it to him. I snort out loud when he flinches.
    He snatches it out of my hand, then turns it on and quickly finds the handles. He pulls the double doors open, revealing three long rows of tiny drawers, each marked with a different engraving. I squint through the darkness as he grazes his fingers over the drawers, apparently looking for something in particular. He stops at a drawer in the lower left corner that has a circle carved in the middle with a star in the right corner. Inside are small glass vials that clink together at the movement. He grabs one, shutting the drawer as quickly as he opened it.
    He spins around to face me, and for the first time, he looks uncertain of himself. “Do you trust me?” He shoves his hair out of his eyes.
    “No.” Though harsh, my voice is also a little sad. It’s the truth, though. It’s not that I don’t trust him. I don’t trust anyone. It is the bleak reality of my life.
    “Can you pretend like you do for about thirty minutes?”
    I want to trust him. I want to think he only has my best interest at heart. Under normal circumstances, a person might be convinced based solely on the fact that I am considered a part of his family. However, I found out the hard way that family doesn’t always love you back.
    I point at the vial. “Does it have something to do with that?”
    He grips it tightly before displaying it to me in his palm. The clear glass is filled with a pale blue liquid that swooshes back and forth from the sudden movement. “I need you to drink it.” He throws his hand out like it’s no big deal.
    I scoff loudly to show him the ridiculousness of his request.
    “I know.”
    “Yeah.” I bend down and scrunch my nose at the vial. “So why don’t you drink it? Then we’ll talk.”
    “We don’t have time for that.” He moves closer to the door and looks outside. “The moon could disappear any second.”
    I raise an eyebrow, wondering what the heck the moon has to do with any of this. He holds his hand out toward me. I reflexively jump back like the vial might bite me. “Drink it,” he says hastily. “If