“Well, you know how teenagers are. She’ll grow up and figure it out,” he said. “You did.”

Tears rushed to her eyes. It may not have seemed like a huge compliment but coming from her dad it was high praise. A man of few words, each one was weighty.

“Thanks, Dad.” All Whitney had ever wanted was for her dad to see her. Notice her. Like he did on those occasional nights when he would sing her to sleep. It only happened when Kevin stayed overnight at the hospital, her mother no doubt by his side. But when the hospital stays became more frequent, they would take turns staying with her brother, or both would go and they’d hire a babysitter for Whitney. Pretty soon, the singing and tucking in vanished altogether.

“Daddy, look!”

“Not right now. Daddy’s busy.”

You’re always busy, Whitney thought bitterly, wishing for the man with the happy eyes and large smile. Ever since Kevin was born, his eyes were drawn, droopy, and his lips were always frowning.

“Look, Daddy, look. I can do a handstand.” She placed her palms on the ground and threw her legs up over her body. Her hair fell over her face, smelling of apples and damp air.

Kevin started coughing.

“Hang on a second,” her dad said.

More coughing. Wheezing.

Her dad hollered for her mom, who immediately came rushing out, her gaze trained on Kevin, never once even glancing at Whitney. Lowering her legs, Whitney sat in the grass, the reeds itching the back of her bare legs. Pretty soon, they’d all be back inside, leaving Whitney out here in the backyard alone. She just wanted one afternoon with her dad. Was that so much to ask?

If only she were the sick one.

Then she’d have their undivided attention.

Their backs were to her as they guided Kevin inside. It was like she was invisible.

Like they’d already forgotten her.

Her mom and Kevin were already through the doorway. Her dad wasn’t far behind. Anger burned through her. She couldn’t let them leave her alone. Again.

Without thinking it through, she flung herself on the ground, hitting her head hard on the nearest rock. Pain shot through her skull.

“Daddy!” she hollered. “Help. I fell down!”

She didn’t have to fake the tears. The minute she felt blood trickling from her scalp, her insides trembled and so did her lower lip. Hot tears streamed her face.

“Oh, my God. Whitney.” Her dad rushed to her, scooping her up into his arms. He smelled like leather and cigars, and she inhaled the comfort of it.

Pressing her face into his chest, she savored the feel of his arms around her.

After hanging up with her parents, she turned toward the family room. Natalie was hunched over, and she could only see the top of her head from behind the couch. Probably on her phone.