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fights back. “Did he threaten you? Is that why you won’t talk?” I struggle to keep my voice calm. It doesn’t work.
    Again, nothing.
    “He can’t hurt you if he’s in jail,” I say. “He can’t hurt anyone.” Though I’m sure his jail mates wouldn’t have the same qualms when it comes to hurting Frank. Child molesters are at the bottom of the food chain. Where they belong.
    Alejandro breaks his gaze from the front window and turns to his friends. They’re no longer watching us. Juan is busy talking, hands moving with his words. Matt is listening and nodding, attention focused on the snow-crusted ground.
    “I have to go,” Alejandro says, voice still flat. He opens the door and escapes the car as if it’s about to explode. The same way my insides feel at his stubbornness.
    “Shit!” I slam my palm against the steering wheel. As much as I want to shake him, to make him see how nothing’s going to change for him until Frank’s put away, I know it won’t help. I’ll have to find another way to get through to him. If I don’t, he’ll never be free. He could end up screwing any willing girl just to prove to himself he’s not Frank.
    I slam my palm against the steering wheel, again. Like I’m one to talk.
    Ryan and I kept silent because of the shame we felt at what Frank did to us. Alejandro’s silence is no different than ours. We were afraid what people would think of us, what our friends would think of us. It wasn’t only about the risk of being yanked from our home and split up in the foster-care system. It was about the stigma placed on us because a man had sexually abused us. There would be lingering questions in people’s minds, wondering if we had enjoyed it. There would have been lingering questions, wondering if we were gay. There would have been lingering questions as to who we were and how to treat us, given what we had gone through.
    Silence might have come at a cost, but it was one we had been ready to accept.
    Until now.
    I watch Alejandro and his friends retreat into the small single-level house. Alejandro doesn’t acknowledge me as he shuts the door behind them, and a sinking sensation consumes me.
    He’ll never forgive me for what I didn’t do. I might not have been the one to touch him, but after my silence for all those years, I might as well have been.
    And with that realization burning inside me like battery acid, I pull away from the curb and drive toward the mall.

Chapter Five
    Amber
    Leaning against the black granite kitchen counter, I flip the page in the cookbook. I’ve been flipping pages for the past ten minutes and still haven’t figured out what to make. For Marcus. For tonight.
    “Jingle Bells” chimes through the house and a weak smile flickers on my face. Michael and I used to argue which Christmas carol to pick when we reprogrammed the doorbell from the usual boring ding dong. “Jingle Bells” was Michael’s favorite.
    I push away from the counter. My socks slide over the black and white tiles as I walk from the kitchen into the foyer. I open the door and Emma enters the home she hasn’t seen in almost a year. She used to believe the place came straight out of a fairy tale, with its Tudor-style design. A complete opposite to the modern furniture and artwork inside.
    She smiles even though I can tell the memories of when she and Trent used to hang out here taunt her. Something I’ve had to deal with every day since I’ve come home. And even before I left for college.
    “I’m heading to the sports center,” she says. “You wanna come? I thought we could toss some hoops.”
    “Sure. Let me get changed.” No way am I missing out on this.
    Emma follows me upstairs to my room. “Marcus is coming today, right?”
    “Yep. He phoned not long ago and said he had a few things to do before he leaves.” I glance out my bedroom window. White flakes swirl through the air, caught up in the wind. It’s light now, but the weather girl promised it’ll become