“I said I’ll cover it,” Ezra repeats.
Her gaze sharpens again.
“Why,” she asks once more, like she is trying to see through him.
He holds her stare.
“Because it’s my responsibility.”
Mom studies him for a long moment, then nods slowly.
“I’ll be back in the morning,” she says to me, brushing her fingers through my hair gently, “try to rest.”
“I will,” I promise.
She squeezes my shoulder lightly, then gathers her bag and leaves the room, casting one last look over her shoulder at Ezra before the door closes.
Silence settles thick and heavy.
I finish buttoning my jeans slowly and sit back down on the edge of the bed.
“Happy now,” I mutter.
“You’re staying,” he replies evenly.
“I don’t want to.”
“That’s not your decision.”
I roll my eyes.
“You don’t get to dictate every part of
