“She’s not giving up on you. Mom’s just … going away for a little while.”

My sister snorts and finally lets the helmet go, handing it back to me before she turns toward the building.

I feel guilty and then angry because I shouldn’t have to feel this way. But I can’t help thinking I’m the reason we’re losing our mom.

Then, an image of Zoey flashes in my mind. Her naked body as she crawled under my covers just a little bit ago. Her pale skin, covered in bruises and stitched cuts from her fall. And my heart hardens toward my mother.

“Text me,” I call out to my retreating sister, and she turns back to glance at me. “When you’re done and need a ride home, just let me know.”

She waves away my offer. “One of my friends will give me a lift.”

But before she can retreat again, I’m off my bike, crossing the worn blacktop and sweeping her up into a bear hug. “Nah, sis,” I murmur against her thick brown hair. “You let me know when, and I’ll be here for you.”

“Pushy much?” The words are dismissive, but her tone is full of the same vulnerability from a moment ago.

Then, her arms wrap around my waist, and we stand still, hugging each other.

After a minute passes, Tanya shoves me away, straightening her spine. “Stop being so clingy. People are going to think I need babying.” She glares, but there’s a glistening at the edge of her lashes.

I give her my goofiest smile in return. “You kidding? Everyone knows I’m the baby in the family.”

She rolls her eyes, even as her lips fight to smile. “Get out of here. I’ll text you when I need a ride home.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Begone, lowly jester!” She waves again before skipping toward the lit-up entrance of the bowling alley.

I watch her until she’s out of sight, then climb back on my bike.

When I get back to my apartment, I take the stairs two at a time, anxious to see Zoey again. I wonder if she’s fallen asleep in my bed. I won’t wake her if she has, no matter how much I want to talk to her. To hear her say she loves me again.

But there’s time for that. If she’s asleep, I’ll curl my body around hers and keep her warm.

When I enter my bedroom, I find Zoey propped up on my pillows, a crochet project in her lap. She has the blankets pulled up over her chest. Or at least, it looks like they started that way. At this moment, one edge sags enough that I catch a hint of her rosy nipple.