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“It’s six o’clock, Dad.”
He sputters around the sip he’d been taking. “No kiddin’?”
My arms fold over my chest. “You forgot to pick up Garrett from camp, Dad.”
He frowns, puzzled. “Was that today? Did you get her?”
“No, I didn’t, as I was somewhere in the middle of Texas when a complete stranger called to say they saw your ten-year-old daughter walking home alone in the heat. I called a friend to go and get her for me.Where the hell were you?” By the end, I’m dangerously close to shrieking.
He looks around at the heads turning toward us and lowers his voice. “I was here. Like always. You knew that. You could have called me, and I would have gone and got her.”
“I didn’t have time to call around and hunt you down, Dad! Garrett was at a gas station with a stranger! She could have been kidnapped or run over or had heat stroke. All while you were sitting here avoiding your responsibilities!”
“Garrett’s fine, though?”
“No thanks to you,” I say.
My dad takes another pull from his bottle and makes to turn in his chair, his dismissal clear.
“That’s it?” I ask, feeling the childish urge to stomp myfoot or swing at something. “You have nothin’ to say for yourself?”
He spins back around, his face older than I’ve seen in a long while, his tone resigned. “What would you like to hear, Winnie? I fucked up. Nothing new. I’ve never claimed to be father of the year.”
“I don’t need you to be father of the year,” I insist, frustration burning in my chest. “I just need you to be a father.”
“I’m doing the best I can, Winnie. Christ, you turned out okay.” This time, he gets up and takes the darts from another guy, and I know we’re done talking.
I spin on my heel, stomping out to my car, kicking at the gravel as I go. I end up picking up a fistful of rocks and chuck the stones one by one at my dad’s tailgate. Not that it matters, dinged up and ancient POS that it is.
“Please tell me that’s your dad’s truck.”
I pick up another handful and whip at the rusty letters that spell outCHEVY.
“I’m, like, ninety-nine percent sure it’s his.”
“Close enough for me.” Case is standing against my car, arms folded across his chest and denim-clad legs crossed at the ankles. “Your brother thought you were probably here. Said he’d stay home with Garrett and get a frozen pizza going for you in case you were hungry.”
My chest squeezes at the thought of my fourteen-year-old brother making me dinner. Frozen pizza, but still.
“Did it help?”
I make my way to Case and lean against the hood next to him. “Not as much as I’d hoped. I knew it wouldn’t make a difference.” I sigh. “But I’d thought it might be, I don’t know, cathartic or something. Instead, it made me feel like shit.”
“If it’s any consolation, I think Jesse has been affected for the better these last few months. He’s grown up a lot.”
I shake my head, smiling sadly. “That doesn’t make me feel better. He’s not the one who needs to grow up. That’s just perpetuating the cycle.”
“Maybe so. But I also think it’s okay for an almost fifteen-year-old to have some responsibilities, and he’s learning that fromyou. He wants to help. He doesn’t want you to do this on your own. And, for that matter, neither do I, nor Camilla, Pax, Maria.… We all want to help.”
My fists clench impotently against my sides. “I’m so fucking sick of needing help, though. I don’t want help! I want to be able to leave my house for one fucking day and know everything will still be okay while I’m gone. This right here is why I can’t ever tour, Case. At least not until Jesse can drive and Garrett can stay home alone.”
“But why should you always be the only one sacrificing? Why are you the one left waiting for your life to start?”
“Why shouldthey? What makes my life more important?”
“I’m not saying that,” Case says, impatient.
“I know,” I say softly, pushing off the bumper and turning to face him. “I know you’re not saying that, and I know you mean well. You’ve done so much for me, and I’m so thankful for what you did today. You didn’t hesitate. I can’t tell you what it means to know I could count on you with them.”
