Chapter 3

I laughed, but not in amusement. “Beg you? As if I made Tyler all by myself. You’re his father, too, aren’t you?

“Am I the only one responsible for him? Don’t you care at all?

“Do you even realize the toll this is taking on him?”

Dan’s expression hardened, his mouth a thin line.

Like I was some madwoman, he grabbed his jacket and slammed the door behind him.

Tyler’s journal, with its wish for my disappearance, was still lying on the couch.

Dan had left his study lights on as usual.

He never bothers with issues—either saying something sharp to rile me up or storming out the door, leaving me to pick up the pieces.

The slam of the door woke Tyler. Barefoot, he padded out of his room, staring at the direction his dad left.

He came over, picked up his journal from the couch, frowning.

“Mom, why do you always make Dad so mad?”

I didn’t answer. Downstairs, the sound of Dan’s car engine roared, and the car drove off.

Guess I’ll be biking Tyler to school again tomorrow.

I looked at the journal clenched in his little hand, at the eyes he inherited from his father.

For the first time, I realized just how trapped I’ve been all these years.