Sienna

I barely got home before the tension inside me snapped. My dad’s SUV still burned in my mind—the horn, the glare, the way he’d stared straight at me. Every time I thought about it, my chest tightened like a vice. I could feel my patience, my fear, my frustration—all tangled together—and I realized something had to give.

“I’m done,” I muttered under my breath.

My dad was in the living room, pacing like a predator, every step a reminder of control, of the leash he ...