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“Are you sure—”

“I’m very sure,” I said.

I could feel the tightness through the phone. “I didn’t know she did that. I’m not okay with that.”

“No? Because it felt like you told her that Larissa deserved it.”

“I didn’t tell her shit. She saw Larissa in the cameras getting her stuff from the house, she asked me, and I told her we broke up, that’s it. You think I want my mom knowing why she fucking left?” His voice cracked the tiniest bit. He took a moment to recover. “I’m gonna talk to her,” he said.

“Yeah? Talk to Janessa, too, while you’re at it. Make sure you ask them both how they treated her the whole time you two dated.”

“What do you mean? They were nice to her. Mom let her use the kitchen—”

“Right. What do I know.”

It was shorter than he deserved and meaner, too, but he took the jab. Then we fell into nothingness again.

“How’s your hand?” he asked after a time.

“How’s your face?”

“Bad. I wish you would have hit me harder.”

He did manage to get a smile out of me, even if it didn’t reach my eyes.

“Can I come over?” he asked. “To see her.”

“No.”

“Can you tell her something for me?” he asked.

“Tell her yourself.”

“She blocked me.”

“Then that’s your answer,” I said.

A long pause. “Okay. I deserve that. That’s fair.”

We sat there not speaking for a long beat.

The garage door opened behind me and Larissa peeked out. “There you are—Oh, you’re on the phone,” she whispered. “Sorry. I’ll finish breakfast.” She went back inside and shut the door.

Mike heard her. I could feel it through the line.

I knew what it was like to be on that side of the call. To hear her voice on the other end. It’s what longing felt like.

I didn’t envy him the feeling, even if he did deserve it.

“You’re sure she’s good?” he said, his voice thick.

“She’s good.”

“Does she need money or—”

“No.”

She did, but she’d never take it from him. She barely took help from me.