CHAPTER 23 | Finn
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I follow Libby into the old farmhouse. Like the rest of the farm, it hasn’t changed much since the days I used to stop by to pick her up—there’s still the faint smell of orange-scented wood cleaner in the air and the pictures on the wall are all Libby riding or Libby with her parents or Libby with Tripp. It’s a dizzying feeling of stepping into the past. We hang our coats on the vintage rack by the door and Libby leads me through to the kitchen.
Her mom’s sitting at the table, tension making her practically vibrate. She swallows before saying, “Hello, Finn. It’s been a long time.”
“It has, Mrs. Bray. I’m sorry we had to reconnect over...this.”
Everyone’s eyes slide to the folder in Libby’s hand and Mrs. Bray inhales hard, like she’s trying not to cry.
Fuck
