There was no funeral, just a cremation and a will reading. My dad kept his wishes simple and straightforward, just like him. He left me and Sydney everything. Since I’m eighteen and she isn’t, I’m also technically my sister’s guardian. A shitty one, so far. I’m too consumed by my own grief.

I’ve always felt like a mess in comparison to Cassia’s poise. But that’s especially true now. I’m scared to face her. I’ve always known she deserves better than me, but it’s never seemed clearer than it does right now.

It’s not Cassia next to my truck, though.

It’s my mom.

She showed up about a week after a drunk driver swerved across the center line and took my dad’s life. Fucking ironic. He logged thousands of miles on the road. Late nights and long hours all across the country. And then he died fifteen minutes from our house.

I stop a few feet away from her and cross my arms.

“What are you doing here?”

“I told you I’m living in Ridgemont.”

Right. The first time she showed up, she dropped that bomb. She walked away from us, a whole two towns over. Didn’t even leave the county.

“Here, as in the high school. You want Sydney to see you?”

I haven’t told Sydney our mom showed up. I’m worried how it might affect her. I don’t trust any of my mom’s intentions as honorable.

“I’m not giving you money.”

I was shocked when I heard how much my dad had tucked away at the will reading. Enough I can afford college without a basketball scholarship.

It should be a relief. Instead, it’s another thing I’m stressing about. I don’t see how I can leave now. Abandon Sydney. She shouldn’t have to stay home alone. Extended family offered to take her in—take both of us in—but that will require switching schools. No one lives close enough to Pembrooke High to make it a reasonable commute. I’m not asking her to do that, though I’m sure she’ll offer. It’s a conversation I’m dreading. A large part of me does want to leave, to get away from this town, and I’m sure Sydney recognizes that.

“You don’t think much of me,” my mom comments.

“Is that a surprise?” I ask, tone cutting.

“Not really.”

I inherited my bluntness from my mom, I guess. I’m worried about what else I might have inherited from her too.

“It’s easy to judge, Holden. It’s hard to be home with two toddlers. Your dad was always gone.”

“That’s not an excuse for abandoning your kids. There is no excuse for that.”

She shrugs. “I knew you were better off without me.”