The front door opens and Mom stops in the doorway, eyeing my bag. “Where do you think you’re going?” She looks behind me, seeing Matt standing with his crutches at the table and Charlotte with her stuff behind me. “You’re not done here, Matt’s not ready to be left alone all day.” Steeling my spine, I square my shoulders and tell my mother what I should have years ago. “I am not my father and I am done raising your children.”
