I entered the passenger seat, barely acknowledging Uncle Pete holding the car door for me.

I was drained in every way possible. My head hurt, I felt like I was hit by a truck transporting tons of brick.

And I would not stop crying.

Uncle Pete climbed in beside me. It was late already. I had no idea how long I'd stayed on the floor in that garden crying my eyes out.

But when I'd realized my phone was ringing, I had seen it was late.

Uncle Pete had been the one calling because he'd been ...