“Survive?” Oliver sets his hand on my shoulder. “Aiden, what do you mean? You have a great job. Freya does, too. You’re both healthy, with a roof over your heads—” “You don’t get it,” I say, shooting up from my chair, my lungs heaving. “Y-y-you don’t understand the pressure, the-the weight of this. I didn’t grow up with a dad like yours. I didn’t have one. My mom cleaned houses all day. I went to school, got myself home, made myself dinner, did my homework. Mom came home, tucked me in, then went to work the late shift at the twenty-four-hour diner, had our neighbor across the hall keep an ear
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