gentle voice even though I’m angry. So incredibly angry. “You’re sick. I get it. But you have to be the one who wants to get better.”
“He’s lying,” Mom says quietly, but the second time around, she’s louder. “He’s lying.” Then to me. “I know you’ve been off because of things with your father, and I know it’s been tough for you falling for a girl who’s dying from a brain tumor, but that does not give you a reason to come in here and make up things about situations you understand nothing about.”
My eyes shut tight as Sylvia places her arm around me and Miguel lays a hand on my shoulder. Both as a reminder to swallow the anger I want to spew at her for hurting me and for continuing to spill Veronica’s secret, and to show me that they, too, hate what she just did.
“You have a problem with drinking.” My voice is pitched low, full of fury, but at least I’m not yelling.
“I drink! Everyone drinks! That’s what happens when you’re an adult!”
“Not when you can’t control it!” I finally shout. “Not when it’s my job to take care of you. Not when you bring strange men into the house in the middle of the night and put us at risk.”
“I don’t have a problem!” she yells.
“You do and until you admit it and get some help, Lucy and I won’t be living with you.”
Mom goes pale and she dips like her knees give out. She stays up thanks to her grip on the chair and Hannah’s help. “What did you say?”
“We’re leaving. Now.”
Demons race from her eyes. “You can’t leave and you sure as hell can’t take Lucy.”
My throat swells as I know the following words are going to be a knife through her soul, a betrayal she might never forgive, but I can’t let Lucy live like I have and I can’t let myself live like this anymore, either. “I’ll text you when we get to Dad’s.”
Mom throws herself forward, hits the chair, and I wince as her hands slam on the tabletop to stop herself from falling. “Is that what this is about? Is your father feeding you these lies? Are you so desperate for him to love you that you’re making me the bad guy?”
It’s hard to breathe and my eyes burn as everyone turns to stare at me. I’m seventeen and I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to be the adult in the room. I don’t want to be the one begging my mom to realize she has a problem. I don’t want to break her heart.
“I love you, Mom. Lucy does, too. I’ll be in contact soon.” I look at Hannah, begging her to understand. “She has a problem, and we need your help.”
I turn, half expecting Sylvia and Miguel to stop me, but they don’t. Sylvia grabs my hand, Miguel turns with me, hot on my heels, his hand still on my shoulder for support.
And my mom … she cries, she yells, and I do my best to block it all out.
VERONICA
“You were correct,” Sylvia says when I open the door to our apartment. “Sawyer definitely needs his friends, and right now, he really needs you.”
If anyone had told me last August that Sylvia Ricci would be at my house at eight in the evening, asking for me, I would have recommended they be checked for a brain tumor. But it’s funny how life changes and how her being at my door is more normal than I could have expected.
One look at her troubled eyes and I grab my father’s overly-large-for-me leather jacket off the hook on the wall.
“V,” Dad calls out. “I want you home by ten.”
I circle on my toes, surprised by the curfew. Dad’s at the sink, finishing the dishes I was helping him dry and put away. His back is toward me, but I can tell by the way he holds his shoulders that he’s on full alert. He’ll be watching me closely now. Closer than I prefer. “No problem.”
Dad glances over his shoulder at me and my stomach dips. It’s there—the deep worry.
“I’m okay, Dad,” I say.
He absently nods and returns to the dishes. Time. Dad and I need to spend more time together. That will make him feel better. But with Sylvia standing near the door and with Sawyer needing me, time together will need to happen later.
Not able to leave him so upset though, I go to him and hug