had I.
The money had been deposited into an account Dad didn’t know existed.
Most of it eventually went to Ryan.
His failed restaurant.
His truck.
His credit cards.
The fifteen thousand he had asked me for was meant to cover the next problem.
Dad confronted Mom that night.
I was there because he asked me to come.
For once, nobody yelled.
Dad placed the refinance documents on the table.
Mom stared at them for a long time.
Then she said, “I was trying to keep everyone afloat.”
“No,” Dad
