“Susannah?”
“Hmm?”
“Promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“Promise me you’ll never leave.”
“I promise,” she said without hesitation.
I let out a breath, and then I let go. “Can I help you with the muffins?”
“Yes, please.”
I helped her make a streusel topping with brown sugar and butter and oats. We took the muffins out of the oven too early, because we couldn’t stand to wait, and we ate them while they were still steaming hot and gooey in the middle. I ate three. Sitting with her, watching her butter her muffin, it felt like she’d be there forever.
Somehow we got around to talking about proms and dances. Susannah loved to talk about anything girly; she said I was the only person she could talk to about those kinds of things. My mother certainly wouldn’t, and neither would Conrad and
