“I know it was hard, honey. I get it, I really do. But you can’t dwell in the past. It’s not good for you. You can’t carry that.”

“You say that, when you still sleep with the lights on,” I said.

It was her turn to not have words.

“That’s different,” she said, finally. She didn’t say how it was different.

I stared at her.

“I want all of us to conquer our demons,” she said. “I think you want that too.”

I continued to stare.

Finally, I said, “I want that too.”

“We can talk this out. We can find things we all want,” she said. “We can make inroads on this.”

She looked nearly as upset as I felt, even as composed as she was.

But in the end, and I’d known this from very early on, seeing her with—with her, she wasn’t a whole and complete person. She tried, she put on a good face, but my mother had been broken long, long ago, and with the way she’d put herself together, she retained only sufficient compassion, understanding, and empathy for a very small number of people. For one daughter, at most.

Second chances. Second go-around, and I wasn’t that daughter, this time.

“In the interest of putting my demons to rest,” I said. “I’m going to keep my distance. Don’t call, because I can’t trust a thing you say. I’ll figure out what I’ll do about Dad later.”

“Don’t,” she said. “Nothing gets better if you close off communication.”

There were things I wanted to say to that.

It wasn’t worth it.

I turned to go.

I heard the gravel under her feet as she gave chase, and I pushed out with my aura, hard.

“Do not use your power on me, Victoria Dallon. That has never been okay, and it doesn’t work anyway.”

I drew in a deep breath. There were things I wanted to say to that, too.

I settled for, “Let me go. If you follow me, I’m liable to hit you with something harder than my aura. I’m pretty sure that would work.”

It might have been a good line, if I hadn’t been choking back emotion as I said it.

I walked away. I didn’t trust myself to fly when I couldn’t see straight. Having a panic attack in the air made for an embarrassing moment.

People stood in rows at the fences that bounded their yards, staring and watching. I wiped away my tears once, then resolved not to shed more, not where people could see. I set my jaw.

In the background, I could hear my father’s raised voice.

Breathe. Center yourself. Move forward. Plan.

I thought about what I’d need to do next. I couldn’t go back to the apartment I shared with my dad.