“Where did you get that?” my mother asked, her voice sharp as she tried to peer over my arm.

I pulled the phone back, tucking it against my chest.

“Megan didn’t drop any tea, Ma,” I said, the words tasting like copper in my mouth.

“She’s clumsy, Jake, you know how she gets with the baby weight,” my mother said, her voice instantly smoothing out into a soft, patronizing purr.

“She trips over her own feet half the time.”

“She didn’t trip,” Megan sobbed, her fingers tightening on my wrist until my hand went numb.

“She locked me in there for three days while you were at the store.”

“She didn’t give me water, Jake.”

My mother let out a short, dry laugh that rattled in her throat.

“She’s making things up to get your attention, Jake.”

“You know how she craves drama.”

I looked at Megan’s face, pale and hollowed out, the dark circles under her eyes looking like bruises in the dim light of the kitchen.

“Three days?” I asked, looking back at my mother. “You told me she was resting upstairs because of her back pain.”