❝ –– perhaps it’s true that things can change in a day. and when they do, those few dozen hours, like the salvaged remains of a burned house—the charred clock, the singed photograph, the scorched furniture—must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. and suddenly, they become the bleached bones of a story.
Carter looked up at Teddy, eyes filled with shock. There was no way it had been a month since she left town to try and sort her shit, no freaking way. The brunette’s eyes filled with regret, “Teddy… It’s been a month? What day is it?”“It can’t have been a month,” she swore, running her fingers through her hair. Carter left to try and get clean, not wanting her mother to see her at her lowest point. “I can explain…” the brunette promised, wrapping her arms around her abdomen.
“How long did you think
it was? Some kind of weekend
vacation?” Teddy snapped. “I assure you, Carter, a day
from today and you’d have been gone for exactly a
month. I don’t think Amelia has slept a night this whole
time — I can’t say that I’m surprised.”
She closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath to calm
herself. She’d learned the hard way that righteous anger
did nothing against stubbornness; instead, she levelled
her voice and said coldly: “You have one minute. Tell
me everything, or so help me, God.”
