Page 4

Unless I can somehow switch his interest to some other topic first.

Saving the rainforests, if they still need saving.

Quantum physics, whatever that is.

Even the life cycle of dung beetles would be preferable.

Or maybe I could bribe him with a dog. He’s wanted one forever, and I’ve said no every single time. Would I prefer having a dog to hearing about hockey?

Definite food for thought.

“A hockey team’s home arena is also called their barn,” Liam says, and this fact is recited with a little less excitement than his others.

“So, the Summit is the Appies’ barn?”

“Yep.”

“Do people also call hockey players horses?” I ask, hoping for a laugh.

Instead, I get a derisive snort. It makes me smile anyway. “Mom,no.”

“Just asking.”

I love horrifying my child. I’m really looking forward to his teen years when I can google all the current teen slang and then casually throw those terms into conversation. He’llhateit, and I’llloveit.

I’m so grateful when the Summit passes out of view without Liam bringing up Camden that I don’t realize how quiet the car has become. A mother knows her kid better than anyone else does, which is why, when Liam’s silence stretches for longer than it has this entire car trip, I know something is up as I turn into what will be our new neighborhood.

“You okay?” No answer. “What’s wrong?” I ask, turning to glance back as we reach a stop sign.

Liam doesn’t look hurt. Or even sad.

He looks … guilty.

Dread rises, clawing its way up my throat until I can taste the panic. Guilty means he’s done something. Something bad enough to stop his parade of hockey facts.

“Liam, talk to me.”

“I’m glad you said you’d take me to the Summit,” he says, his words carefully measured. The gears in his head are turning at a rapid rate.

“Why are you saying it like that? With that tone, and with such specific wording?”

“I did something.” Liam sounds miserable. “I know I shouldn’t have. I know I should have asked you. But I was afraid you’d say no.”

I miss the turn to our new street, and the GPS interrupts, rerouting us. A perfect pause in which to collect myself. I breathe deeply and attempt to settle my nerves.

Don’t freak out. Whatever it is, be cool. You’re a good mom.Mostlygood. Just because you’re a very emotional person doesn’t mean you need to unload on your kid when he does something awful. It’s probably no big deal.

“It’s fine. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it. But you have to tell me.”

“You promise not to freak out?” he asks. “You promise not to be mad?”

“I promise I’lltry. And even if I’m a little upset, you know nothing you could do could make me love you less. It’s you and me versus the world, right?”

“You and me and Uncle Jake and Aunt Eloise and Grandpa Ned,” he adds stubbornly.

Hearing Liam list off names of the family we’ve left behind, my hands reflexively white-knuckle the wheel.

For years, I’ve gone back and forth between living in Savannah and living on the island with my family surrounding me—those Liam mentioned plus all the more recent additions he didn’t: Merritt and Hunter and Sadie and Benedict. And the one I’m shocked he didn’t mention, Hunter’s daughter, Izzy, who is Liam’s age and a good friend.