I couldn’t do anything to save Grace. It was my worst fucking nightmare, and all I could think was that it was my own damn fault because I should have taught her how to swim.”
“You should have,” I agree. “Tomorrow, after I get off work at the library, I’ll teach her. I taught Abby’s little sisters. If we don’t get her back in the water, she might get scared of it.”
“Like me.” Erica takes the shot of vodka and goes to pour another. I grab the bottle out of her hand.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She claws at me, leaving a long, red scratch across my forearm.
“If you have one more drink tonight, I swear to God, I will call your ex and tell him what just happened. He deserves to know. And Gracie and Iz deserve a parent who can take care of them.”
Erica slumps against the counter. “I’m trying.”
“Try harder. Grace could have drowned, and instead of comforting her, you’re down here comforting yourself with vodka? What the hell kind of mother are you?” I demand. “They deserve better. Hell, I deserve better. But I’m seventeen. I have Granddad and Luisa and Claire and Abby and Connor. Meeting you may not have gone the way I hoped, but I don’t need you. Iz does though. And Gracie too. She’s so little. She really needs her mama.”
“I am not this person.” Erica raises her mascara-streaked face to me. “I swear. It’s being around Dad. Being in this house again. It makes me—”
“No,” I interrupt. “I don’t want to hear it. Granddad can be pushy and drive me up the wall. Growing up with him is not always a picnic. But he loves me. He loves you, despite everything you’ve done. This town can be claustrophobic, but there are so many good people here who would’ve helped you if you’d asked. People who probably still would. You are an adult, and you need to stop blaming everything on your parents and me and this town. You need to own your shit.”
Erica stares at me, her lips pursed. “Are you done?”
“No.” I take a deep breath. “I used to worry that you left because of me. Because you couldn’t be my mother. At least with Gracie and Iz you tried. Even last week, when you said I’m someone people leave—that was a really shitty thing to say.”
Her gaze falls to the floor, and she fiddles with one of her silver rings. “I know. I’m sorry.”
An actual apology. I take the words to heart because I suspect I might never hear them from her again. My voice softens. “I don’t hate you. I tried to, but mostly I just feel sad that I’ll never know what it’s like to have a real mom. Even if someday in the future we can be in the same room without it being awful, it won’t be like I grew up with you. And I don’t know what you need to do to get better, whether you need a therapist or AA or rehab or what, but—”
“I don’t need rehab,” Erica snaps. “Stop looking at me like that.”
I sigh. “Like what?”
“Like him,” she says, and I know she means Granddad. “Like I’m a failure.”
I wrap the towel more tightly around me. “Look, I don’t care what you do, but you better do something—soon—or Iz and Gracie are going to start looking at you like this too.” I put the vodka down on the counter between us. “It’s your choice.”
Chapter
Twenty
The heat breaks in the middle of the night. I wake up to a crash of thunder, to lightning bright as day, to a fury of rain lashing against the roof. I don’t know what sixth sense possesses me—usually I curl up and put my pillow over my head during thunderstorms—but this time I crawl out of bed. I walk over to the window under the eaves and peer down at the side yard.
And I see Erica.
Her spiky blond hair is flattened to her skull, her black tank top is plastered to her skin, and she’s cringing beneath the onslaught. She’s carrying a box in her arms and a bag over her shoulder.
She’s leaving.
I run downstairs in my pajamas but pause in the kitchen when I see the note.
Dad—
I’m going away for a while to get myself together. I’ll be back this time. I promise.
Grace, Isobel—
I love you, but your daddy can take better care of you than I can right now.
Ivy—
I’m sorry. I owe you so