A wave of guilt crashes through me. Willa assumes I’m coming to the Bergmans for Thanksgiving, like I did last year, after Dad’s and my brief, early meal. I don’t want to tell her how unsure I am that I’ll make it. If I’ll feel well enough, because I just never know when it’s going to be a rough day and home is the only place I can handle being. If I can stand the embarrassment of seeing Axel since Kissgate.
