Rain.
"It’s a trap, Rain."
Emma’s voice is tight with anger as she scurries around the bedroom, kicking of her shoes and wrestling into a pair of jeans.
I’m already dressed, my fingers fumbling with the zipper of a light jacket, my heart hammering a rhythm that feels like it’s trying to bruise my ribs.
"I don't care, Em," I say, my voice trembling with an edge. "She’s my mother. If she’s dying—"
"She’s been 'dying' every time she runs out of rent money for years!" Emma snaps, hopping on one foot as she tries to pull on a shoe. "You finally get a moment of peace, away from everything only to go running toward the woman who sold your childhood for the next free d**k that can get her a designer bag."
I wince at her description of my mother.
“I don’t even know why you read her text. I t
