I laugh. “Not all of us were like Begonia as kids. We did more than just roll around in the mud.”

“You know what I mean, I’ve watched those family movies. Kids are always playing sports, riding bikes, going to the park. I didn’t like the park, it was a death trap.”

I crack up. “A death trap?”

“Seriously, plunging down a metal slide onto cement? Rotating hunks of metal with chipping paint? A jungle gym that has likely been the cause of numerous broken bones and ER visits?”

“Granny wasn’t kidding about the helmet, was she?”

Her voice is full of laughter. “That wasn’t even the half of it. I blame Scarlett. One time I fell and skinned my knee under her watch and Granny got so spittin’ mad I thought Scarlett would cry for a full year. She never let me do anything even remotely dangerous after that. She would tell me stories about kids falling and breaking their heads open just by walking around outside.”

“That’s funny. My dad loved to freak us out when we were kids. You know those yellow signs with pictures of cows on the side of the road? When there’s open-range steer?”

“Yeah.”

“He would tell Annabel and I those were warnings for carnivorous cows.”

She laughs. “And you believed him?”

“I was six.”

Once her chuckles die down, she asks, “Is your dad okay?”

Thoughts of my parents send a pang down my spine. But I brush it off. “Yeah. He’s fine. He’s . . . he got hurt at work and has been out on workers’ comp. Momma tries to downplay it, but I think it’s worse than they’re letting on. He sleeps all the time. I barely see him anymore. And now they have to sell their house.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs.

“It’s fine. They’ll be okay. They’re going to live in Florida with my grandma. They’ll be able to stay with her, help out, and scrape by on their retirement. I still worry about them though. I know they’re struggling with medical bills, even after insurance, and I really want to help them, but right now . . . I feel helpless. It’s why I’m majoring in engineering.”

“How does majoring in engineering help your parents?”

“It’s the field with the highest-paying jobs you can get with a four-year degree.”

“Do you like the classes?”

“They’re okay.”

“If money didn’t matter, what would you do?”

The question stops me. It’s not something I’ve ever considered. It’s not really about me, it’s about taking care of the people I care about the most. “I . . . I don’t know. I’ve never let myself think that way. I pick a course and stick to it.”

“So later, if they don’t need your help, would you do something else?”

“Sure. Life’s not always a straight line from A to B.” I’ve never talked to Abby about these things. I’ve never talked to anyone. For some reason, Reese is easier to talk to.