Levi's mouth was a straight line. "You have five minutes. Start talking."
She blinked, then sighed, as if burdened by the weight of the world. "It’s about your father’s estate," she said. "The people handling it are saying there might be an insurance policy, and they need your signature. I didn’t know who else to call." Her voice was trembling, but I watched her face—every muscle mapped for effect. "They want you to come in, just for a few minutes, sign the papers, and then you never have to see me again. I promise."
Levi said nothing, but the tremor in his jaw was back. He stared down at his lap, where our hands were locked together.
She tried again, voice growing more desperate. "It’s not for me, baby. I just want to do the right thing by you. I know I messed up, I know I wasn’t there when you needed me, but this is my last chance to make it up to you. Please, Levi."
I could smell the bullshit from three feet away, but I waited. It wasn't my fight—not yet.
When Levi finally looked up, his eyes were wet but steady. "If you’re not getting anything out of it, why do you care so much?"
She recoiled, then reached for her coffee with shaking hands. "It’s not about the money," she said, but there was a whine under the words. "It’s just... they said if you didn’t sign, it’d go to court, and that’d be a mess for both of us. I don’t have the energy for that, honey. I’m sick. I haven’t been well."
Levi flinched, but I pressed my thumb against the inside of his wrist—hard enough to make him focus.
"You never called," he said, the words like gravel. "Not once. Not after the foster hearings, not when I graduated, not when Dad died. You didn’t even send a fucking card."
Gloria’s smile fell away. For a split second, the mask was gone, and all that was left was an animal panic. Then she fixed her face, arranging it into a portrait of motherly concern.
"I was ashamed," she said, voice catching in a way that sounded so perfectly practiced it almost hurt. "I didn’t want you to see me like this. Penniless. Alone. I’m living in a motel. The only thing I’ve got left is you."
That hit the room like a gunshot. Even the register girl stopped counting change. I wondered if Knox would step in, but he didn’t move—just watched, impassive, from the corner.
"Why now?" Levi whispered. "Why not last year? Why not ever? I haven’t seen you since I was six god-damn years old."
Gloria looked at me, then at Levi, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Because I’m dying, baby. I’m not going to make it six more months. The treatments—they’re brutal. I don’t have anyone else. I just want you to remember me as I was. I want you to forgive me, just this once."
It was a master class in manipulation, but I’d seen better. Still, Levi’s breath caught, and he sagged in his chair, the fight draining out of him.
I cleared my throat. "You want the money for treatments," I said, watching her face for the tell. There it was—the microsecond twitch, the little tick at the edge of her mouth.
She nodded, lips trembling. "Yes, but I’d give it all up if you’d just give me one more day. One more chance to be your mom."
The bakery felt like a courtroom, everyone waiting for the verdict.
Levi drew a shaky breath, then said, "If I do this, you leave. You don’t come back. Ever."
She smiled, the tears finally rolling. "Deal," she said.
He pulled his hand from mine, wiped at his face, then nodded once. "I’ll sign."
"Sunshine—" I started, but he cut me off with a look. For a second, I saw the boy he used to be, small and breakable, but then it was gone, replaced by a hard resolve.
Gloria stood up, fast, as if she was afraid to lose her grip. She moved to hug him, but I blocked her with my arm, not subtle at all.
"Thank you," she said, voice thick. She didn’t try again.
She turned to leave, brushing past the bakery crowd, all of whom suddenly found the floor or their pastries much more interesting.
As the door slammed behind her, the tension broke. The noise came back in a wave—voices, laughter, even the radio. But the world felt drained, flat.
Levi didn’t look at me. He stared out the window, watching her cross the street, her figure sharp against the pale sky.
"You know she’s lying," I said, as gently as I could.
He nodded, jaw set. "Doesn’t matter. I just want her gone."
I wanted to say more, but I knew it’d just hurt him. So I let him sit there, breathing the smell of sugar and yeast, until Knox came over, dragging an extra chair.
