“I’m so sorry, Camden. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I can’t believe it happened.”

I just stare at her. How could she do this? It’s not fair. She’s pregnant again? I’m glad she had Lucy, more than glad. I love my little sister. But another baby? How the hell is she going to raise another kid on her own? “Who?” I clear my throat. “With who?”

She waves me off, her tears streaming down her face. “It doesn’t matter.”

I scoff angrily, too angrily because she’s still my mom, and she’s a good mom, but I cannot believe this. “It does matter. Is this one going to stick around? Is he going to help out with his kid? Or is he going to be like my dad? And Lucy’s dad? What the fuck, Mom?”

My voice rises, and she winces, but she doesn’t yell back. She looks so ashamed and so sad that all I want to do is make it better for her. “I’m so sorry, Camden. No, he doesn’t know.”

“You haven’t even told him yet?”

She shakes her head and sniffs. “I’m not telling him. He’s already gone. It doesn’t matter.”

I stare at her, overwhelming rage flowing through me. Disappointment and worry. How can this be happening?

I’m almost free.

“I’m not telling him.”

“What do you mean you’re not telling him?” She can’t be serious. This can’t be happening.

“I mean I’m not telling him, Camden. I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be fine.” I’m furious now. “How? How the hell are you going to be fine with a five-year-old and an infant all alone?”

“I’ve made it work.” She’s defensive now, though she’s still crying, and I hate it. I hate that I still want to make it okay. I hate this part of me that always wants to make it okay because it’s not at all okay.

“You made it work because of me, Mom.” I point to my chest, saying it a little too loudly.

“I . . . I—” she stutters, and I interrupt.

“I made it work. I balanced school and practice and part-time jobs. Just small nothing jobs on the side. Everything. But I made it work. You can’t do this on your own.”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. Don’t talk to me like that, Camden. I did the best I could.” She’s full-on sobbing now and goddammit.

I walk toward her, pulling her into a hug because she looks so lost and broken. Because she’s taken care of me, and I know she didn’t expect my dad to just leave. I know she’s lonely.

“It’ll be okay, Mom,” I say, even though I don’t feel it.

I feel my future drifting away from me.