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He picks up on the third ring. That’s late, for him.

“Son.”

“I need to ask you something.”

A pause. I can hear the house behind him. The TV, low. My mom’s voice, asking if everything’s okay.

“Go ahead.”

I don’t know how to say it. I stand in front of Corvin in the dark with my phone against my ear.

“I want to ask Tessa to come with me,” I say. “In September. To wherever I go. I want her to come.” I look at the window on the third floor. “And I haven’t asked her. Because I don’t want to tell her what to do. I don’t want to—” I stop. “I don’t want to be the guy who decides where she lives.”

The silence goes on long enough that I check whether he hung up.

“Have you asked her what she wants?” he says.

“No.”

“Then you’re still deciding for her.”

I stand there.

“You think if you don’t ask, you’re giving her a choice,” he says. “You’re not. You’re just making it for her. You’re deciding the answer is no, so you never have to hear it.”

I don’t say anything.

“I know what that looks like,” he says. “I’ve done it to you for nineteen years. I didn’t ask you anything. I just decided what you’d say, and then I did it for you. I thought I was making it easier.” A pause. “It isn’t the same thing as asking.”

The streetlight on the quad flickers.

“Ask her what she wants,” my dad says. “And then let her answer. Whatever it is.”

I stand there in front of my empty dorm in the dark.

“Okay,” I say.

“Rafferty.”

“Yeah.”

He’s quiet a second.

“She’s a smart girl,” he says. “She’ll tell you the truth.”

I walk back.

Faster. The whole way. Main. Past the diner. Wren. The porch light’s on. Paige isn’t on the swing anymore. The front door’s unlocked.

I go up the stairs. Her door is shut.

She never shuts it when she knows I’m coming. Not once, all summer.

I stand in front of it in the hallway.

And I knock.

One knuckle. Once.