She sniffles, and her whole body hitches against me. “I can’t believe I thought that your father … That he would ever do that. He had problems. I know that. And he made a lot of bad decisions near the end. But he was a good man, Beckett. I need you to know that. I need you to believe that, no matter what you hear.”

“I do,” I assure her. “People are going to believe what they want about him, just like they will about the rest of us. And you were right. There’s nothing we can do about that but learn to live with it.”

Fact-Check Rating: Insufficient evidence. I’m willing to test this theory, and I hope someday I can prove it wrong.

She nods and pulls away. Then her eyes widen as she takes a step back, looking me over from head to toe. “You’ve outgrown me.” My mother laughs and swipes moisture from beneath her eyes. “I don’t know when that happened.”

“Me neither.”

“I’m ready,” Landry calls from the living room, and I turn to see her wearing her pink coat over my black sweater and her own black jeans. “Well, that’s not true. But I’m ready to get this over with.”

Mom grabs her purse from the coffee table and digs in it for her keys. Then she turns to Penn and me. “While we’re gone, why don’t you two decide what you want to do for dinner?”

“It’s Christmas Eve. Can we have dumplings and egg rolls, like we used to?” Landry asks.

That was Dad’s idea, several years ago. He said that by the time the holidays were over, everyone would be sick of turkey and ham and dressing, and that we should just pick up Chinese takeout for Christmas Eve. So we’ve done that every year since. Even last year, when he was “sick.”

Mom digs through her purse. “I don’t have any cash.”

“It’s on me,” Penn tells her. “I have a little left from my last paycheck.”

“Thank you.” Mom puts one hand on the side of his face and smiles up at him.

He outgrew her too. Years ago.

Chapter Twenty

TWENTY

While Landry and Mom are gone, I head into my room to finish wrapping my presents. Landry’s appointment takes longer than mine did, and by the time Mom’s car pulls into the driveway, Penn and I are on the couch, pretending to pay attention to that Christmas movie that plays over and over every year. The one with the little blond boy in the pink bunny suit.

I hear the car door slam, and a second later, the front door opens on a frigid gust of wind. Landry stomps inside without a word and heads straight for her room.