“Will you pick me up tomorrow?” Cal piped up behind my back. I kept on moving toward my truck, not looking back. “If you’re at Dylan’s. Mom’s house is on my way.” It wasn’t, but I clung on to the last shred of my self-respect like it was the edge of a cliff on Everest. She’d been here less than a week, and already I had hired her and driven her around like a chauffeur. Way to maintain fucking distance.
