“Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. It’s all fine. But what if it wasn’t?”

Milo runs a hand over his face. “But it is.”

“But what if it wasn’t?” I ask again, my voice rising. “You said you had this. You were on Dad duty tonight.”

Milo throws his hands in the air. “I fell asleep! I fell asleep, okay? I’m sorry I made a mistake!”

I shake my head and point at him. “No. We’re not at the apologizing point. Don’t skip to that. You don’t even know all the things you did wrong yet.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” Milo mutters.

“Excuse me?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Nothing. Just saying that you’re really good at letting me know all the many ways I’ve failed you.”

“That’s pretty rich, seeing as you don’t even know half of what I go through every day. It’s hard taking care of Dad, Milo.”

“I know.”

“Actually, you don’t know, because you aren’t around. Because you split when things got tough and you left me here to handle it.”

Milo rubs his hands over his face again. “I’m not like you, Chloe. It freaks me out, seeing Dad like that. I don’t even know what to do, how to help. I can’t handle it like you.”

“What, do you think I have some sort of supernatural ability to handle things?” I explode. “Because, news flash, I don’t. But I’m handling it because I have to, because I don’t have a choice, because no one gave me one. You’re gone, Mom’s gone, I’m the only one who’s here. The only one who cares.”

“Mom and I care,” Milo says, and I almost argue back before I realize what he said.

“What do you mean, Mom cares?” I ask, something clicking into place in my brain. “How would you know?”

“I talk to Mom sometimes,” he mumbles, avoiding my eyes.

I freeze. Of course, I suspected this. Would Milo ask me about “forgiving” Mom so often if he didn’t at least occasionally talk to her? But I thought it would be one of those things we never brought up, an open secret hanging between us.

My voice switches to syrupy sweet. “Oh, that’s nice. And how’s she doing? Feeling happy, after abandoning her entire family for a guy she met on the Internet?”

“Talk to her yourself if you want to know,” Milo says, an edge in his voice that I don’t think I deserve.

“Wow, no thanks! I would literally rather get trapped on a cruise ship with no running water. Also, if she’s so hell-bent on talking to me, she could (a) go back in time and not ditch me, and (b) try to contact me herself.”

“She’s scared to talk to you because of . . .” Milo waves his hands at me. “This. You’re terrifying.”

Even though I’m angry, I feel a little proud. “If she’s afraid of me, that’s her problem. She’s the parent, I’m the kid.”