Mom sniffed again, nose still up but her eyes full of tears as she moved for my father. He opened his arms, and she curled into him gently, her defenses gone slack as her spine.

“I can’t believe you kept this from us,” I said quietly, locking eyes with my father again. “How long has it been going on?”

“A year,” he admitted. “You have to understand, your mother was just trying to help. To save things as best she could.”

“She should have come to us,” Laney insisted. “Marcus is right. This all could have been avoided.”

“How bad is it?” Jett asked carefully.

Dad’s eyes grew sad. “There are quite a few more surprises waiting in that box, I’m afraid.”

“Did you even read the letters, Mom?” Laney asked. “Did you know what you signed? How could they make Longbourne cease business?”

“The noncompete,” Dad answered for her, his arm around her shoulders protectively but his face apologetic and heavy with remorse. “If the shop made over a certain amount of money, we would be in breach. They’ve been sending requests for our financials, and those requests have been ignored.”

“Have we exceeded their terms?” I asked, not wanting the answer.

With a sigh, Dad nodded. “I think it’s likely.”

“Everything we’ve worked for,” Luke said, half to himself. “Everything we’ve done to save Longbourne, and now they’re going to shut us down? I can’t believe this. I cannot believe you didn’t tell us.”

Mom hiccuped a sob into Dad’s chest. “I’m so s-sorry,” she said miserably, the sound muffled by his shirt. “You have a right to be a-ashamed of me. My mother turned over in her grave when my pen touched that contract. And n-now I’ve r-ruined everything.” The word dissolved into a wail.

And that was just about all I could take.

I stepped toward them, cupping Mom’s shoulder. At the gesture, she spun into my arms, launching herself at me as a fresh trail of sobbing escaped her. Her fists, gnarled from arthritis, twisted my shirt.

One by one, my siblings joined until we were a knot of arms and torsos, Mom in the middle.

“We’ll fix this,” I promised. “We’ll figure it out.”

And I hoped with all my heart that I could make good on it.

18

Birthday Bitch

KASH

A week passed in a whirl. Days in the greenhouse, afternoons with Marcus as he sifted through the unholy amount of paperwork our mother had dutifully ignored for months. Nights in Lila’s arms, the distance between us always slim.

It had become impossible, in fact, to maintain any form of detachment. I’d become accustomed to ignoring our looming end, a constant presence that took up a dark space in my heart. But I happily pretended as if it wasn’t silently waiting to be acknowledged.

Pretending felt good.