He scanned the paper and frowned like it offended him. “Seriously? You handle the bills. That’s your thing. Don’t dump stress on me.” Then he added, “Ask your mom. Or your brother. Someone.”
Derek texted back: Sell your car. Stop being dramatic. Megan sent a single emoji——and nothing else.
By late afternoon, my chest felt tight, not because I needed money, but because I’d finally seen the truth in plain daylight: I wasn’t family to them. I was a resource.
I sat alone in the parking lot of a grocery store, pretending I was stranded. The sun was dropping and my phone buzzed again.
A new message appeared—Ethan. My younger cousin, the one everyone forgot at Thanksgiving.
Where are you? he wrote. Don’t explain. Just tell me. I’m coming.
I typed the location. Two minutes later, he called.
“Claire,” he said, breathless, “stay in your car. I’m five minutes away.”
And for the first time that day, I actually believed someone.
Then I looked up—and saw Ryan’s truck turning into the same parking lot, creeping down the row like he was hunting for me.
Ryan parked two spaces away and didn’t get out right away. He just sat there, hands on the wheel, watching my car like I was a problem he wanted to solve without touching. My stomach flipped. How did he know where I was?
He finally climbed out, jaw tight, and walked over. “Why are you out here?” he demanded, as if I owed him a report.
“I needed air,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “You told me to ask someone else, so I did.”
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Who did you ask?”
