Mom was home when I stomped in the kitchen door, but it didn't mean she was available. Every time I tried to talk to her she was hauled off by some conversation in her head or another so I finally gave up and retreated to my room to sulk.

When she did reach out at last, I slapped her away, too wrapped up in my own pissiness to care if I hurt her feelings.

We're meeting tonight, she sent. Be ready at dark.

It shook me loose from my funk. Already? Well really, what ...