“Justin.” When she whispers my name, the hurt and crushing I felt yesterday is nothing like it is today. Today, it feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest, and I can’t get up. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah.” I finally look into her eyes. “We should get going.”

“What?” she asks, almost surprised that I’m actually going to continue helping her. “After everything that just went down, you are still going to go out of your way to help us?”

I stand now and shrug. “I said I would help you, and I keep my word.” I turn to see Dylan getting into the back seat. Then I take a deep breath and say the words I wanted to tell her yesterday right before she sent me away. “It’s not my place to say anything, but he deserves better.” I take off my hat, scratching my head. “You both do.”

I turn to walk away, not expecting her to say or do anything, but I feel her grab my wrist with her small delicate hand that has to juggle all the balls in the air without letting one fall. “Please,” she says in a desperate plea, and I wonder how many times she’s said that, only to come up with no answer. I don’t shrug off her hand, but I turn, and she slowly slips her hand away from my wrist. My fingers graze hers, and I struggle not to grab it and keep it in mine, but I let it go. “I want you to know that before today, I have never, ever let him see what his father has done,” she says. I see her eyes gloss over with tears, and I want to cup her cheek in my hand. “And I don’t know that I wouldn’t have lied for Andrew this morning if I’d found the bag first.”

“Where is he?” I ask, not sure if it’s the right thing for me to know right now.

“He’s long gone,” she says. “I heard the door open and close last night, and I just thought he was leaving. I never, ever …” she says, rubbing her hands over her face. “I never expected him to take his equipment. It’s hockey equipment. The TV was a given. The iPad was like waving candy in front of a kid.” My stomach burns as she says this, and my hands clench at my sides. “But this …” She shakes her head. “I never expected this.”

“I have an extra bag of equipment at the rink,” I say.

“I can’t have you do that.” She shakes her head. “This is not your problem.”

“No, you’re right, it isn’t,” I say, and I step closer to her, “but I can help, and I’m going to.”