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I really appreciate everything you’ve done for us,” Kellan says, sitting across from me at the table. “Keep in touch while you’re at USC. Who knows what will happen or where we’ll be in two years.”

“Thank you,” I say to both him and Lowell. They took me out to dinner after our team meeting. The project is about to break ground. Sucks that I won’t be around to see it. “I wanted to give you plenty of notice. I’m planning to head out there in a little over a month to get settled. Take the summer to acclimate.”

“That’s smart,” Lowell says. I haven’t worked directly with her much since she focuses primarily on residential, but she’s been a great mentor over the years. “I have some contacts out there if you need anything. Even know a couple of the professors in the program.”

I smile. “I’ll take you up on that only if I have to. Rather make it on my own merit.”

“That won’t be an issue,” she says with a smile. “You have a bright future, Jonathan. We’re happy to have been a part of it.”

I realize I’m smiling on my drive home. It feels… odd. Not that I never smile; it’s just that this has nothing to do with anyone else. For the first time, I have a future I’m looking forward to. It may not include the people I thought it would, but it has purpose. And that’s better than nothing.

My phone pings as I’m about to get on the highway. When I see it’s Emma, I pull over.

Emma: I’m so sorry. I need your help again. I’m so, so sorry. At the house.

I turn the truck around, blowing out a breath. I volunteered with full awareness. I really want Emma to know there’s more to life than being trapped in a life that only benefits others. So, I have no problem answering her call for help. But nothing could’ve prepared me for what I pull up to.

Emma’s sitting on the front steps with Rachel sprawled on top of her, covered in puke. Nice. I can smell the rancid sourness as soon as I step out of my truck.

“Oh shit,” Emma groans. “You were out. You had plans. Jonathan, I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have called you.”

“Yes, you should have.” I set my hands on my hips and assess the situation. It would be kind of comical if it weren’t so terrible. Rachel’s dress is hiked up past her underwear. She’s unrecognizable, with her makeup smeared and puke matted in her hair and dribbling down her front.

“Bad night?” I cough back a laugh with a shake of my head. Emma looks pathetic, her jeans matted to her with the same vomit. She gives me a dark look.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” A note of sarcasm brings a brief smile to my face, until I realize what we need to do next.

“Is the door unlocked?”

“We didn’t make it that far.” She splays her arms to indicate the obvious. She offers me the house key. I pluck it from her contaminated fingers.

I avoid all of the wet spots as I make my way up the steps and across the porch. I open the door and flip on the lights. I should’ve kept them off. Now I’m trying to guess what the hell she drank that’s fruit punch red. Holy shit.

I step into the house to remove my jacket and button down and return to Emma, still seated on the porch—afraid to move.

“Go ahead upstairs and get the shower ready for her.” I give her a sympathetic once over. “And you.”

Emma looks seconds away from getting sick herself when she stands. The squelch of her wet jeans against her skin makes her shudder, and a pitiful mewl escapes her.

“Don’t think about it,” I tell her.

Rachel didn’t come to the entire time we undressed and washed her. I can’t believe she drove home. Then again… I can. I’m disgusted for more than one reason by the time I take her to her room. Not only did she put everyone on the road at risk with her selfishness, but she left Emma to deal with the aftermath. That she allowed her to see her like this.

“Go ahead and clean yourself up,” I tell Emma. “I’ll stay with her in case she gets sick again.”

I’m sitting outside Rachel’s room, leaning against the spindles that overlook the foyer when I hear whimpering coming from the bathroom. I listen more intently. Emma’s crying. “Goddam you, Rachel.”

I get up and stand outside the door. “Emma? Are you okay?”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” is her broken reply. I sit back down to give her time to recover before she comes out of the bathroom.

“Thank you.” Emma sets down the trash bag of clothes that should probably be burned. “I’m really sorry for interrupting your night. Please don’t tell me you were at a business dinner or on a date.” She cringes in apology.

I give her a reassuring smile. “I told you to call me anytime you need me. And I meant it.”

Emma sits down across from me in a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt, her wet hair pushed back over her shoulders. The dark circles are more prominent on her freshly washed face. She leans against the doorframe to her mother’s room, checking in on her.

“What was this about?” Rachel wasn’t at the team meeting today. I didn’t inquire where she was because I honestly didn’t care. I was too relieved to consider she might be self-destructing at a bar to avoid seeing me.