She presented me with a seventy-nine-page binder of rules and instructions, and I told her I would rather live in a tent under the bridge than read the damn thing. She, in turn, told me where to find Rob’s old camping equipment and gave me explicit instructions of where I could shove it before stomping upstairs. I wasn’t really going to move out. Bree knew this. I knew this. Asher, however, called me in hysterics on the walkie-talkie I’d given him for his birthday, begging me not to leave like his dad. That was the last big argument Bree and I ever had. We all slept in Asher’s room that night.
