My phone buzzed with a direct message from Dylan.

*Mom, can you call us later?* the text read. *We need to talk to you.*

I felt a cold chill despite the ninety-degree heat.

I quickly typed back: *Is everything okay?*

The three dots appeared, then vanished.

*Just call us when you can,* Dylan wrote back. *Not when Dad is around.*

I stared at the screen, my heart pounding.

I looked at my airline app and searched for flights from Kahului to Austin.

There was a direct flight tomorrow afternoon.

I opened the lease agreement for my temporary apartment downtown.

It was a modest two-bedroom, but the second bedroom had two twin beds.

I had originally rented it just for myself, thinking the kids would split time with Richard.

Now, looking at Dylan’s message, I realized they might need to come straight to me.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my hands.

The sun was beginning to dip below the hills, casting long shadows across the empty concrete.

The wind rustled through the live oaks my father had planted when I was a girl.