I stared at the ceiling.
“I can’t even stand up. He’s only six weeks old.”
Her tone hardened immediately.
“Your sister never has emergencies like this. Lauren handles her responsibilities. You always create chaos.”
The words landed harder than the crash had.
I said, “Mom, a truck ran a red light.”
“And what exactly am I supposed to do about that now?” she snapped. “I’m leaving for a cruise this afternoon. Everything is already booked. I deserve this break.”
I could hear zippers in the background. Drawer handles. Movement. She was actually packing while I lay there unable to sit up without help.
“Please,” I whispered. I hated how small my voice sounded. “Jacob won’t be here until tomorrow. I just need tonight.”
She lowered her voice into that cold, offended register she used whenever she wanted to make herself the victim.
