It lands like a punch.

Right in the chest where all my most fucked-up fears live.

I need out. Now.

I escape to the patio, but Mom's words follow me like persistent shadows. Out here, under the late afternoon sky, my feet shuffle restlessly against the weathered boards. I'm haunted by memories of my parents' tumultuous relationship, the echoes of their chaos still reverberating through my bones. The deep-seated resentment I've harbored toward my mom for not leaving Scott sooner burns in my chest—a familiar anger at how she allowed his destructive nature to tear through our lives like a hurricane.

Each night I spent as a kid, stationed outside my mom's door, making sure she was safe, left scars that run deeper than I care to admit. The weight of those memories presses down on me now, feeding into my fears about letting Nora in completely. The twisted logic I've lived by—that no one could hurt me more than I could hurt myself—feels like a prison of my own making. How do you let someone in when all you've seen of love is manipulation and pain?

I'm not just tired. I'm terrified of becoming my father, of dragging Nora into the same kind of darkness that nearly destroyed my family. The responsibility of holding it all together when I feel like I'm crumbling inside is exhausting. Every step forward feels like walking through quicksand, pulled back by the ghosts of my past.

So I run.

It's what I'm good at, what I've always done when emotions threaten to overwhelm me. But even as I try to escape, my mind drifts to possibilities I've been avoiding.

"You okay?" Mom's voice cuts through my spiral, gentle but knowing.

I nod, but the gesture feels hollow, unconvincing even to myself.

"Yeah, uh..." My voice comes out rough, hesitant. "I was thinking maybe I could clean out the sunroom. Since no one's really using it." The words tumble out before I can second-guess them.

Mom raises an eyebrow, a mix of curiosity and understanding crossing her features.

"The sunroom? Why?" There's something knowing in her tone that makes me shift uncomfortably.

I run a hand through my hair, aiming for casual but probably missing by miles. Her expression shifts to something warm, almost proud, and it makes my chest tight.

"Go ahead," she says with a wink that says she sees right through me.

In my mind, I can already see it—Nora's safe haven, a space away from whatever demons are chasing her. The image solidifies something in me, a purpose taking root. After today, feeling her shake against me, seeing that raw fear in her eyes—I'd do anything to keep her safe.

But just as that thought starts to settle, my phone buzzes, the sound sharp and intrusive in the quiet night air. My stomach drops when I see Monty's name on the screen.