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Faith Waters now?” I asked, stirring a cup of burnt coffee. I still wasn’t ready to call her my aunt.
    Lukas shoved a handful of onion rings in his mouth, washing them down with his second strawberry milk shake. The truck stop was empty for the most part, and the waitress seemed relieved every time he ordered something else.
    He shrugged. “We don’t know. She doesn’t have a bank account or any credit cards, not even a driver’s license. No cyber footprint.”
    Priest pulled one of the headphones away from his ear. “Which means she’s probably the person we’re looking for.”
    “Then how are we going to find her?” I asked.
    Everyone except Elle—who was busy flirting with a guy sitting at the counter—stared at me as if I already knew the answer.
    Lukas flicked a balled-up napkin at Elle. “Think you can concentrate on what’s going on over here?”
    “I’m capable of doing two things at once, thank youvery much,” she muttered under her breath, without compromising her smile for a second.
    Lukas took his silver coin out of his pocket and flipped it between his fingers. “If we want to find your aunt, your dad is the logical place to start.”
    At the mention of my father, Elle whipped around in my direction. She was the only person who knew the truth about what happened the day he left—how he saw me watching him through the kitchen window, and still drove away. I never told my mom.
    The note my dad left her said enough:
All I ever wanted for us—and for Kennedy—was a normal life. I think we both know that’s impossible.
    I picked at the fries on my plate. “I don’t know anything about him. He took off when I was little.”
    “Okay. What do you remember from before he left?” Lukas asked.
    “She said she doesn’t know anything about him.” Elle flashed him a warning look.
    Lukas ignored her. “Come on, Kennedy. You have a photographic memory. There must be something.”
    Elle slammed her glass on the table. “Her father ditched her when she was five years old. He never even sent her a birthday card. He’s an asshole.
That’s
what she remembers.”
    Heat spread across my cheeks. “Shut up, Elle.”
    Jared’s hand tightened around mine under the table. Istared out at the rain running down the windows. Anything to avoid the pity and questions I knew I’d see in his eyes.
    “I’m sorry.” Lukas sounded sympathetic and uncomfortable, the way my friends had when they found out my mother was dead.
    My embarrassment turned to anger. I hadn’t seen my dad in twelve years. He didn’t even show up to claim me when my mom died. Yet he still had the power to hurt me. “You want to know what I remember about my dad?”
    “Kennedy, it’s okay—” Jared began.
    I held up a hand, silencing him. “My dad smelled like Marlboros and mint toothpaste. More mint or more Marlboros, depending on how well he’d covered up the smell of cigarette smoke. He liked his bacon crispy and his coffee black. He didn’t shave every day, so his face was either perfectly smooth or covered in stubble, and he had the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. His favorite candy bar was 100 Grand, and he’d let me eat them before dinner even though it drove my mom crazy. He loved Johnnie Walker, Pink Floyd, and Edgar Allan Poe. He hated musicals, collared shirts, and magicians.”
    I stood up. “And he said he loved me more than the moon and the stars and everything in between. But he lied.”
    No one spoke as I headed for the dirty glass doors at the front of the restaurant.
    “Kennedy?” Jared called after me.
    “Give her a minute,” I heard Elle say as the doors swung closed behind me.
    I leaned against the building under the awning, next to the truckers trying to take one last drag of their cigarettes before they went inside.
    Jared’s green army jacket flashed in my peripheral vision. He grabbed my hand and pulled it behind him, drawing me close. “When you told me about your father, I didn’t realize it