The parking lot was half full of trucks and tired sedans. Winter had stripped the trees down to dark bones. A dead patch of grass shivered in the wind beside the curb. I parked beneath a bare maple and put the car in park, but I did not turn off the engine. I just sat there with my phone in my lap and my breath coming too fast.
I read the message again.
Then again.
And then I thought about every time I had gone when they called.
Every time my mother had said she needed help and I had rearranged my schedule before I even asked how much.
Every time my brother Kyle had some urgent idea or crisis and I had transferred money because he sounded desperate and because I was the reliable one.
Every time my sister Brinn had wanted support, logistics, last-minute help, a little extra from me because I had always been the daughter who could be counted on to smooth everything out.
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