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“I will let you know for sure in the next few days. A lot of it will depend on work.”

That’s only partially true. Things have slowed down significantly at work, and I haven’t worked a weekend in three weeks, not that I’ve told her as much. My true hesitation is Charlotte. It’s one thing to spend time with her alone. It’s quite another to spend time with her under the watchful eyes of my sister.

And then there’s Maisie to consider. I’m still not comfortable with the fact that she knows what’s going on. Not that I did myself any favors when I showed up pissed off and demandedthat they get in the car. If she didn’t know before that, she would have then. What’s to say she won’t get drunk and slip up if I’m sitting right in front of her?

It’s risky.

Then again, this whole thing is a fucking risk, and yet, I keep jumping off the same cliff over and over again. So far, I’ve only hit water below. But how many more times can I jump before it’s no longer water I land in but hard, unrelenting earth.

“Well, I really hope you can make it.”

“I should go. Mom and Dad need to leave by four and Mom still has to run down her list of instructions for the girls.”

“The girls are already there?”

“Mom picked them up on her way home from work so they’d already be here when I got here. I guess they trust me to watch them but not enough to pick them up from preschool.”

“Who can blame them. Have you been in a car with you?”

“I am a perfectly fine driver.” I huff.

“You drive like the road is your racetrack and you’re speeding toward the finish line.”

“You are really on my ass today, you know. First I’m not responsible enough to babysit, now I drive like a maniac. Anything else you want to insult me on before I hang up?”

“Hmm...” I can see her tapping her chin in thought as if she were standing right in front of me. “Nothing I can think of at the moment.”

“In that case, I’m hanging up before youdothink of something.”

“I only give you crap because I love you.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Love you too,” I mutter, ending the call as I head up the steps that lead to the front door of my parents’ house. “Mom. Dad,” I holler as I push my way inside without knocking.

“Wiver!” Lacy comes barreling toward me and I lean down, swooping her into my arms.

“Wacy!” I nuzzle her little neck the way I always do, tickling her with my facial hair. “Where’s Memaw and Papa?” I ask, giving her a little bounce.

Before she can answer, my mom comes out of the living room, running her hands down the front of her cream-colored blouse. Her face lights up at the sight of me.

“Hi, sweetie.”

“Hey, Mom.” I tip my chin. “Where’s the other rug rat?”

“She’s coloring with your father.” She gestures behind herself and I nod, stepping past her into the living room. My father is sitting on the floor, Lyla next to him.

“Hey, Pop.” I set Lacy on the couch with a dramatic plop, smiling when she squeals in laughter.

“Your turn.” My father climbs to his feet, handing me the crayon he was coloring with just moments ago.

“What are we coloring?” I ask, lowering myself down onto the spot he just occupied moments ago.

“Butterflies,” Lyla informs me, the wordduhso clearly displayed in how she says it. Dalton and Avery are gonna have their hands full when this one becomes a teenager.

“Butterflies. Oh yes, I see.” I reach for Lacy, tugging her down onto my lap before handing her a crayon as well.

“She can’t color,” Lyla says.

“Oh, I’m sure she can color just fine, can’t ya, baby girl?” I ask, watching Lacy press the crayon to the paper, tracing long lines of thick crayon marks through the center of the page.