Jessa

I knew the second I walked through the front door that something was different.

The TV was on.

Not just on — actually being watched.

Mom was on the couch in her scrubs, feet tucked under her, half a cup of coffee on the table like she’d reheated it and forgotten about it. Some daytime talk show was playing, the kind she never watched unless she was home when she wasn’t supposed to be.

I stopped in the doorway, my backpack sliding down one shoulder.

“Uh… why are ...