Family has always just meant Mom. Willa’s grandpa died of lung cancer before she was born, and her grandmother suffered a fatal stroke when Willa was too young to remember her. Willa’s father is a blank line on her birth certificate, and her mom swears she has no idea who he might be. The only clues to his identity are Willa’s brown eyes, deep brown curls, and skin that is darker than her mother’s. Sometimes she wonders about the other half of her chromosomes, but most of the time having her mom’s smile and the Ryan-family freckles is all she needs.

Until now, the longest Willa has been away from home is junior race week at Put-in-Bay every August, and even then her mom could hop on the ferry at Catawba and be there in twenty minutes. Her throat constricts when she thinks about being gone for nearly three months. “I’ll miss you too.”

Her mom tucks a stray curl behind Willa’s ear. “Maybe send me a postcard or two?”

“Obviously.”

“And I’m too young to be a grandma, so if you have sex, use protection.”

“Oh my God, Mom. Gross.” Willa’s skin warms, and she’s thankful the air is cool. Hooking up with strange boys is not part of the plan. Even so, it’s not something she wants to discuss with her mother.

“Listen, as someone who used to be a veritable United Nations of sex—”

“Those are words I could have lived my whole life without hearing,” Willa says, slinging her faded red duffel over her shoulder. “So I’m going to go stab my eardrums now.”

When her mom smiles, it erases all the bad, and Willa is flooded with love.

“I guess this is it,” she says.

Her mom gestures at the pile built from Willa’s floral sleeping bag, pillow, backpack, and Aldi shopping bags filled with food. “Want a hand with this stuff?”

“Don’t be late on my account.”

Willa’s mom touches a kiss to her forehead, then wipes her lip gloss away with her thumb. “I love you, do you love me?”

Willa’s cheeks dimple into a smile. “Yes, I love you, do you love me?”

When she was a little girl, they’d go back and forth with this until Willa broke into a fit of giggles. Now her mom offers another, softer smile as she climbs back into the car. “More than anything in this world, so be safe. Be smart.”