even know half of what I go through every day. It’s hard taking care of Dad, Milo.”
“I know.”
“Actually, you don’t know, because you aren’t around. Because you split when things got tough and you left me here to handle it.”
Milo rubs his hands over his face again. “I’m not like you, Chloe. It freaks me out, seeing Dad like that. I don’t even know what to do, how to help. I can’t handle it like you.”
“What, do you think I have some sort of supernatural ability to handle things?” I explode. “Because, news flash, I don’t. But I’m handling it because I have to, because I don’t have a choice, because no one gave me one. You’re gone, Mom’s gone, I’m the only one who’s here. The only one who cares.”
“Mom and I care,” Milo says, and I almost argue back before I realize what he said.
“What do you mean, Mom cares?” I ask, something clicking into place in my brain. “How would you know?”
“I talk to Mom sometimes,” he mumbles, avoiding my eyes.
I freeze. Of course, I suspected this. Would Milo ask me about “forgiving” Mom so often if he didn’t at least occasionally talk to her? But I thought it would be one of those things we never brought up, an open secret hanging between us.
My voice switches to syrupy sweet. “Oh, that’s nice. And how’s she doing? Feeling happy, after abandoning her entire family for a guy she met on the Internet?”
“Talk to her yourself if you want to know,” Milo says, an edge in his voice that I don’t think I deserve.
“Wow, no thanks! I would literally rather get trapped on a cruise ship with no running water. Also, if she’s so hell-bent on talking to me, she could (a) go back in time and not ditch me, and (b) try to contact me herself.”
“She’s scared to talk to you because of . . .” Milo waves his hands at me. “This. You’re terrifying.”
Even though I’m angry, I feel a little proud. “If she’s afraid of me, that’s her problem. She’s the parent, I’m the kid.”
“Only you’re not a kid anymore, Chlo,” Milo says, softening a bit. “You’re an adult now, and our parents are getting older.”
“Uh, yeah,” I say. “I’m well aware.”
“And I know you’re mad at Mom. I am, too. Or I was, I don’t know. But what do you have to lose from talking to her?”
“Where is she?” I ask.
Milo sighs. “She’s here, in Columbus. They moved back.”
I can only assume that “they” refers to her and her Internet boyfriend, but I can’t even focus on that.
“Is that why you came back here?” I ask. “To hang with your deadbeat mom?”
“That’s not the only reason.”
My voice rises as the realization hits me. “Wow. Wow. I thought you came back because you had a change of heart, because you wanted to be around for Dad—”
“I do!” Milo starts to say, but I cut him off.
“I thought maybe you gave a shit about me. But that’s not it at all. You came back for her. You came back for the woman who left us.”
“Chloe.” I look Milo in the eye and he’s pleading with me, his face begging me to listen. This is the look I always cave for, the one that makes me give him whatever he wants.
But not anymore.
“I’m sorry, Chloe,” he says. “I’ll do better. But I never knew you needed my help—you never asked for my help.”
“I thought the whole ‘people should take care of their sick fathers’ thing was kind of an unspoken rule. Forget it.” I rub my temples. “I’ve done fine without you the past few years. I’ll keep doing fine.”
He rears back like I slapped him, but I don’t wait around to hear what he has to say. I spin out of the room and through the kitchen, where Fred and Mikey Danger are sitting at the kitchen table, eating straight out of a pizza box.
“Oh, hey, Chloe,” Mikey Danger says, toasting me with a piece of pizza.
“Is everything okay?” Fred asks with concern evident on his beautiful face. He probably heard me yelling at Milo; after all, the walls in this place are thin.
“Everything’s fine,” I say as I head out the door and into the night. “Everything’s perfect. Everything’s great.”
I slam the door behind me, then notice that the drizzle has turned into pouring rain. I bolt toward my car. I’m soaking wet, my hair plastered to my face, my dress clinging to my body.