I’m not exactly in a place to deal with his second thoughts and rejection of what happened earlier, so I pocket my phone, unable to reply. The walk home is a blur. I want nothing more than to run to my room, barricade the door, and hide.

Of course, that’s when Mom would choose to parent.

“Willa,” Mom calls out from her bedroom. “In here. We need to talk.”

Grumbling under my breath, I make my way to her room. She’s dressed to the nines in a fitted black dress, impossibly high heels, and her makeup perfectly applied. Her dark hair that matches mine has been twisted into an updo that makes her seem much more elegant than the wife of a weasel of a man who lets his son get away with being a pervert.

“Hey,” I say in greeting. “I see you found your clutch.”

Her eyes narrow on me. When she’s not zoned out on Xanax or whatever is helping her cope for the day, she can be kind of scary. It’s what made her a fantastic attorney before she met Darren.

“What’s going on with you?”

I gape at her in disbelief. “What?”

“First that nonsense with your brother and then—”

“My brother? Mom, he is not my brother.” My voice is shrill and shaking. “He’s my stepbrother.”

“Don’t be a child, Willa. This is exactly what I’m talking about. Your dramatics are always over-the-top.”

I’m stunned, which is dumb because it’s not surprising. When it comes to Darren and Levi, she’s always sided with them. It’s like, when she married Darren, she turned into someone else. Someone pliable. Whatever Darren wanted, Darren got. She wasn’t like this when Dad was alive, nor after when it was just the two of us. Something changed.

“Mom,” I croak out. “I’m not being dramatic.”

Her lips press together as she disregards my comment. I notice, despite her flawless look, her hands tremble slightly. “I’m going to a gala with Darren tonight. Get along with Levi, please. We have enough going on in our lives without you two adding to it.”

“He took pictures of me, Mom. While I slept.” Hot tears burn at my eyes, but I’m too angry to let them fall. Why is she taking their side? “He violated me.”

“Enough,” Mom snaps, her voice rising a few octaves. “Don’t you think you’re blowing this a little out of proportion?”

“He had half-naked pictures of me on his phone and was showing his friends!” I cry out, choking on a sob. “My teacher saw them!”

She flinches at my words. Barely. Almost imperceptible. Then, she straightens her spine and points a manicured finger toward my bedroom. “You live in the house with a teenage boy. Learn to lock your door at night.”

“Mom…”

“I can’t afford for you to ruin my marriage. Not now.”