He lifted the phone again, dialing her number again, hoping this time around she’d answer.

Voicemail.

A sharp breath left him.

Before he could try again, the screen lit up with an incoming call.

Mom.

His stomach dropped.

He hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. She already knew. There was no doubt about that. Still, it was better than his father calling. With her, there was a chance. A slim one, but still.

He answered.

“Hello—” he was about to say When his mom’s voice cut him ...