shakes just as violently.
I nod, bringing my hands up to my mouth, biting on my thumbnail until it snaps off completely. “I’ll call Mikey.”
“I think that would be best.”
I pull the phone from my back pocket as Ran slides past me, exiting his room. The timer for our dinner beeps steadily from the kitchen.
When I hear him open the oven and settle the pizzas onto a cooling rack, I collapse onto his bedroom floor, giving in to the guilty cry that’s been trapped inside me for more years than I can count.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“I’m sorry I made you leave work, Dad.” I sink as far down into the passenger seat as possible, until I’m slumped so low I can hardly see over the dash.
“No apology necessary, Maggie Girl.” Dad’s calloused hands hang over the steering wheel as he coasts the car into the garage. “I’ve stacked up my overtime and took on two extra shifts later in the week to cover the hours I missed last night.” Though everyone else’s hair—even Mikey’s—is starting to grow back, Dad’s kept his billiard ball look and still sports a closely shaved head. It looks good on him. “Plus, I’m just dropping you off. Heading back over to finish up my shift.”
“How long were you there yesterday? At the ER?”
“Just under twelve hours.” Dad twists off the headlights and the garage is sucked up in the hazy darkness of twilight.
“You should have called me.” I pull on the handle.
“It was just a blood clot, Mags. The doctors gave him some blood thinners to inject. He’s fine.”
I step out of the car and slam the door back into place louder than I mean to. “Mikey’s not fine. He has cancer, Dad.”
“Yes, he has cancer. But it could be a lot worse.” Dad’s careful to close his door with delicate ease.
“Like there are many things worse than being an eighteen-year-old guy with brain cancer.”
“There are many things worse.” Dad props the door open for me, but remains in the garage. “He has a scan next week to see how things are progressing. His doctor is very confident in this treatment plan.”
“That’s good,” I say, realizing even if my own bubble has already been burst, it’s not fair to poke a hole in Dad’s. “See you in the morning?”
“Yep. I’m off at 5:00. But you probably won’t see me then.”
“No,” I smile, taking my overnight bag from his hand. “Probably more like 10:00.”
Dad sweeps a light kiss on my cheek. “Night, Maggie Girl. You know you can call any hour of the night if you’re stuck in a situation with a guy you don’t like.” He gives me a fatherly look of worry mixed with a hint of don’t-mess-with-my-daughter.
“Oh, it wasn’t like that, Dad.” Though pretending Ran was trying to take advantage of me feels safer than admitting what actually happened between us. “I just don’t like the guy.”
“Listen to your instincts. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders.” He plants another kiss on the crown of my hair and slips back into his car.
The house is dark and empty. Mikey’s over at Sadie’s, the reason why I called upon Dad to rescue me. Mikey offered to get me and said it was no big deal, but even though my own night with Ran didn’t go as planned, who was I to interfere with other, less volatile relationships? Some people deserve to be happy, and Mikey is definitely one of those people.
I trudge to my bedroom and toss my bag on the hardwood. My bed is neatly made, Mikey’s returned ‘thank-you’ for doing his laundry, I’m sure. I never make my bed, something Mom always nagged me about. I’m sure her four newest children have perfectly washed, tucked, and smoothed bedding covering their mattresses. I’m sure they live up to her ridiculous expectations, because we’re coming up on year ten with them and as far as I can tell, there’s no indication she’s planning to run any time soon.
Why do I hate her so much?
I scold the unwelcome question from my brain, mostly because I can’t form a coherent answer for it, and also because I hear it spoken in Ran’s voice. His low, irritatingly controlled voice.
It’s not late, but the thought of living this day for any more minutes than absolutely necessary feels unbearable. I slip on my pajamas, head down the hall to brush my teeth, and scrub my face as hard as I can without completely tearing at my skin. I wash away the