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Bradley stepped in front of her, his blurry features replacing her hazy view of her mother.

“This woman is a liar and a coward.” The bitterness in his tone was almost as jarring as her mother’s accusation. He slowly came into focus. “None of it is true. It’s called projecting. My therapist talks about it all the time: attributing your shortcomings, your mistakes to someone else in an attempt to make yourself feel better. I know all about it because I used to do it. It was the bartender’s fault for overserving me on my birthday. My friends’ faults for ‘forcing’ me to take shots when I’d only planned to drink a few beers. Always blaming everyone else for my drinking instead of accepting responsibility for my own actions, accepting that I had a problem, that I was an alcoholic.” He stepped toward Devra and placed a hand on her arm. “So don’t stand there and listen to this woman’s lies for another second. She left her family. She chose to leave you. It probably eats her alive, so she’s made up this story to help her cope. That’s on her. It’s not on you. Not for a single second.”

Devra searched for comfort in Bradley’s words, in his familiar touch, but the montage kept flowing behind her eyes. The elf robbing her in the parking lot. The pet turtle that had dropped dead under her watch. The pattern. The evidence. Always her.

“I don’t know who you are exactly to my daughter,” Charlotte exclaimed, and Bradley turned around to face her. “But I can see you are trying to be kind. That you are inherently a good man. So I’m going to ignore your hateful words toward me and give you some advice. I only pray you heed it.” She stepped toward him. “Run,” she said gravely. “Get as far away from her as you can, before some terrible misfortune befalls you.”

“Mom…” Devra whimpered. Suddenly she was ten years old and sitting on the staircase landing beside her brother as her father made phone call after phone call, all the while knowing her mother would not be found, that she would not be coming back.

Some childlike instinct had her reaching for her mother, just as the candle flared again and a piece of wall art thudded to the ground.

“Don’t!” Charlotte recoiled. “Oh, my girl, please don’t come any closer. You must keep away. And stay away.”

At that, her mother’s face broke. Tears gushed from her eyes as she turned and fled the room. The server was entering at the same moment, holding a tray of amuse-bouches. They collided, and dishes were sent crashing to the floor.

Charlotte pushed around the server, and Devra was left behind, feeling as broken as the shards of glass scattered at her feet.

BRADLEY

Devra sat beside him as the bus swayed. Their bodies were forced close by the seating arrangements, and yet Bradley could feel the gap between them. What had he done? She looked shattered beside him, eyes puffy from crying. He’d meant to help her. Instead, he’d only made things worse.

“You know it isn’t true, right?” he asked for the hundredth time.

The motor of the bus rumbled beneath his feet. What was he to do now? They’d lost their only lead. Bradley had gone all in on the mother, the same way he used to drop hundred-dollar bills on black when he could barely afford his rent—before he had to quit the restaurant altogether and move back in with his parents—cheered on by the vodka coursing through his bloodstream.

That gin and tonic Charlotte Montgomery had ordered.

He’d tasted it on his own tongue as she’d gulped it down. Felt the coldness in his mouth turning into warmth as it slid down his throat, sending heat into his veins and erasing his worries. The disembodied figure with the outstretched hand was standing close, beckoning him. Just the one, just to take the edge off, it suggested. How many times had his friends from the restaurant said that to him? It’s so-and-so’s birthday! The Blue Jays swept the Yankees! Just one shot, one pitcher! Eventually he’d had to accept that overcoming his addiction meant leaving them behind too.

Devra sniffled and brushed a tear from her cheek, and his insides twisted. Ached. Thirsted for drink.

“Charlotte Montgomery is just some sad lady who doesn’t know how to take responsibility for her own actions.”

Minutes passed. No response.

Sleet slashed against the windows. The wiper blades swished back and forth at the front of the bus, rubber streaking the windshield like a metronome. The repetitive sound grew in volume in Bradley’s head until it was a thumping bass beat, until he was back at that bar, feeling the sting of Melissa’s palm against his cheek.

Devra would vanish too. Because he’d said the wrong thing. Done the wrong thing. Failed her. Promised her the world but led her into a trap.

He was such a failure. Such a loser.

Shit, he needed to call his therapist.

But he couldn’t. She was on vacation. Even if he could track her down, how could he possibly talk to her with Devra sitting beside him, listening in, getting a front-row seat to his ugly side? He’d only lose her faster. He wished he wasn’t confined to this vehicle. He longed to run or jump or crank out some push-ups, exhaust his body so he could ease his restless mind.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He glanced at the screen and saw it was another text from his sister. Where are you, Bradley? We stopped by the house again, and you weren’t there. He shoved his phone back into his pocket. He didn’t have the mental energy to deal with them right now. He knew they meant well, but there were times when their hovering felt less like support and more like smothering.

His phone buzzed again. He felt Devra shift away from the sensation, away from him. He’d call Sara the second he got home—a Bradley promise. He didn’t want her to worry. He just didn’t want to have to worry about her worrying when he was already worrying enough right now.

The vibrations continued, indicating it was a phone call this time.

“Are you going to get that?” Devra asked meekly, swiping her forearm underneath her runny nose.

Bradley muttered an apology. He took his phone out to turn it off. But the caller ID wasn’t Sara’s.

Melissa’s name stared at him.

After a year and a half of silence, she was finally calling him back.