Catie laughed, more to ease Martha’s mind than because she felt anything beyond the knot in her gut. And though she could barely taste the dish Martha had prepared with love in her heart, she cleaned her plate.

Her phone stayed silent throughout, and the knot… it grew and grew until she had no room in her stomach for anything but fear. Clive had taken off plenty of times, but he usually messaged her back within a few hours. She’d been very clear with him after the Sydney thing.

“I’m your kid,” she’d pointed out in a calm tone she’d practiced in her room—because Clive blanked if anyone got too emotional. “I need to know my dad is safe.”

Catie didn’t expect Clive to be like her friend Laveni’s dad—a jovial and warm presence who came to school meetings and drove her places and scowled at boys who wanted to hang out with her. Catie had Issie for that; her sister was the best and even more protective than Veni’s papa. But Catie did expect Clive not to scare her.

That was normal, wasn’t it? She loved Martha but knew that Martha had her own daughter and a grandchild on whom she doted; Catie tried not to ask for anything from her beyond what was in her duties. When it came to family, Catie only had Clive and Issie. Okay, she had the Dragon, aka Jacqueline, too, but her mother—who’d married and then divorced Clive within a few short years—didn’t really like to spend time with her children.

Ísa was the one to whom Catie went with her problems and questions. Ísa’s husband was pretty neat, and he treated Catie like family too. So yeah, she had him as well. That was four people. Plenty enough. But only one was her dad, and she didn’t know what she’d do if anything happened to him.

The knot was a rock by now, her throat all choked up.

Bedtime came without any reply from Clive, though Veni messaged her a pic of a cute boy she liked from school—he wore glasses, played chess rather than sports, and was almost as smart as Veni.

Catie answered her friend with a heart eyes emoji, then took a deep breath and began calling hospitals to check if Clive had been in an accident. She still had a kid’s voice, so the busy people who answered the phones were nice to her where they might not have been as welcoming to an adult.

“Oh, honey,” one nurse said. “Is there no trusted adult who can do this for you?”