I dropped my head into my hands, my heart tipping over. “Okay. Then why did you call?”

“I’m not sure.” He paused, and the sound of a microwave or coffeemaker beeped in the background. “I felt like you were in trouble or … I’m not sure. But now that I hear your voice …”

“Trouble.”

“You’re not, right?”

“I guess that depends on your definition.” I looked up then, and there was Dad staring into the sunroom, watching me as if I were twelve years old and had broken my arm; sympathy on his face like a veil. “I have to go.” I hung up the phone and stood to Dad.

“Ladybug, are you okay?”

“I think.”

Rusty came from behind Dad. “She’s fine.”

Dad took my hand. “Rusty called this morning to tell me about the accident. My brother is on the way, too. He wanted to visit anyway and—”

“Uncle Cotton is coming?” I walked out of the sunroom.

Rusty grabbed my arm. “Where are you going?”

“Coffee.” I pointed to the kitchen.

Dad followed me. “Seriously, are you okay?”

“Of course.” In the kitchen, I opened the cupboard and took out a mug that said, “World’s Best Mom.” It was a Mother’s Day gift years ago, one that Lil had made in art class. I filled it with hot coffee.

“It’s so weird how you weren’t hurt at all. Thank God.” Dad’s voice tripped on the word hurt as if it were a broken stepping-stone.

Rusty coughed. “Listen, the tow truck already got the car. I took care of that.”

“I’m not hurt,” I said to Dad, “because I wasn’t driving.”

“What? I’m confused.” He looked between Rusty and me as if he were playing a ping-pong game of eye contact.

“I told the police I was driving because Rusty had been drinking.”

“This is absurd,” Dad said.

Rusty made a noise that somehow resembled a laugh but was not one at all. “Absurd? So would you rather be bailing me out for a DUI or standing here in the kitchen drinking coffee?”

“I’d rather you not have driven,” Dad said.

Rusty glanced around the room and, finding no ally, said, “I’m going to the office to get some files. I don’t need to explain myself. This is my home. I’ll be home in thirty minutes.”

Rusty placed his coffee mug on the counter and left without speaking again, yet his words had filled the kitchen, leaving no room for air.

Dad and I stood quietly until I said, “Let’s go outside and sit on the patio.”