Odessa POV

Storm was back at home earlier than expected. He bullied the hospital into letting him go. His bruises had faded, and his cuts were almost healed. Whatever was left was internal.

His car was in horrible shape. There was no point in saving it.

When we got home, everyone was nervous and fussing over Storm. It didn’t feel like the right time to talk to Mom about the letters, but if not now, then when?

“Mom, do you have a minute?” I asked.

She stopped moving around the pots and ...