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He chuckles. “Don’t want the girlfriend to catch you in a lie?”

My gut clenches. I planned for this to go down while Gemma is at work. Her shift ends at three-thirty, which gives me two hours.

“I didn’t actually lie.”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that.” My brother laughs again when his wife shouts about groveling in the background.

“Thanks for the advice, peanut gallery.” I roll my eyes to the cloudy sky. “I’m already sweating bullets out here.”

“That’s your fault. It’s quite comfortable where I’m sitting.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You could be more supportive.”

“You could’ve listened to me. Gemma would agree.”

A black sedan with tinted windows turns into my driveway. It’s impossible to identify the driver. That unknown variable troubles me. He could’ve brought reinforcements.

The booming of my pulse is deafening, drowning out the crunch of gravel under the tires. Only seconds remain until Deadbeat Dad is in front of me. It suddenly feels like there’s a snake wrapping around my throat, cutting off my airway. I didn’t think the nerves would choke me quite so tight.

Dust plumes around the unidentifiable vehicle as it comes to a stop twenty or so feet from where I stand. It’s a safe enough distance.

“Gotta go, bro.” And then I hang up, tucking my phone out of sight.

My father steps out from behind the wheel. He’s wearing an ill-fitted suit and too much hair gel. His general disheveled nature is familiar, but the evil glint in his stare is new. I’ve always known him to be morally corrupt and cruel, but not necessarily dangerous.

I brace myself when the passenger door opens. Air whizzes from my lungs when I get a good look at her face. It takes several frantic beats of my heart to comprehend the whole picture.

“Mom?” My voice is an embarrassing croak.

Her smile is crooked, exposing yellowed teeth. “There’s my lucky charm. Heard you’re gonna save the day.”

The old nickname is a knife plunging into my chest. I wobble slightly, overwhelmed by this unexpected reveal. “W-what’re you doing here?”

She makes no move to come closer and greet me like she would have when I was a kid. It’s another stab at my rose-tinted memories. I foolishly envisioned that she ran off for a fresh start. Somewhere she could be free and happy.

Time has changed her, and not for the better. It’s only been seven years, but she looks like she’s aged twenty. Dark circles hang heavy under her eyes. There’s a grayish hue to her skin and I wonder if she’s sick. She looks worn down—ready to surrender. Dad always had that effect on her.

My gaze slides between them. “You’re back together?”

“It’s just business,” Mom mutters.

Dad grunts. “She begged me to take her back. Couldn’t survive on her own.”

“What happened to do better?” My emphasis on her parting words booms into the space separating us.

The wrinkles on her face deepen when she frowns. “You lost me, kiddo.”

“That’s what your note said,” I remind.

“Oh, please.” Mom waves it off as if I’m a pest. “It was just meant as motherly advice. I wanted you to turn out better than your father.”

Her flaky explanation falls flat. It’s disappointing, but not shocking. The anger I’ve harbored against her is little more than a hollow ache. After this conversation, I’ll finally be able to release what’s left of my hostility. Gemma will be pleased to learn that I’m getting closure after all.

“For the record,” I drawl. “That was a really shitty message to leave behind. It was my only reminder of you. I sacrificed the love of my life for years because it put me in such a dark place.”

“Are you expecting an apology?” Mom’s cackle mocks me. “Chance, quit your bitchin’. Looks like you’re doing just fine.”

“No thanks to you.”