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“Daddy?”

“I’m right here.”

She reached for me, and I bent to help her up.

“You ready to eat lunch? The restaurant has really good salmon and broccoli,” I offered.

“Yuck! I just want salmon and French fries.”

“You can only have French fries if you eat all of your broccoli,” I compromised.

“Fine, Daddy,” she rolled her eyes.

“Nah, babygirl. You don’t roll your eyes at me. Be respectful,” I said.

“Sorry, Daddy.” She reached to hug me with her free hand.

She was a good kid. Why the hell couldn’t Storie be more like her?

I knew it was wrong to compare them, but sometimes I felt like they were born of two different parents.

21

Melody

Like an undercover detective, I slid on the bus behind two girls from Kingsbrook and kept my head down.

For the past week, I had watched my son leave school alone. He took the same bus toward Bethesda, where Roman and Aria were renting a house. Most days he scrolled his phone with earbuds in his ears, tuning out the outside world.

I often wondered if he was just trying to center himself before walking back into that house and having to deal with the tyranny of Roman.

Today, I was finally going to talk to him. I paid close attention to his patterns to ensure that neither Aria nor Roman was anywhere around.

Keenan sat near the back with his book bag on the seat beside him. He was looking out the window when I stopped in the aisle.

“Is somebody sitting here?”

He turned toward me.

For a second, he didn’t move. Then his eyes widened, and he looked past me toward the front of the bus.

“Mom?”

“Hey, baby.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Move your bag.”

He pulled it onto his lap, still looking around as I sat beside him. I wanted to hold his face and kiss him until he complained. Instead, I kept my hands on my purse.

His black eye was fading. Up close, I could see the last of the discoloration beneath it.

“Does your father know you’re on this bus?” I asked.

“He knows I take it.”

“I mean right now. Is he expecting you to call him?”