“No.”
Lila made a small sound from the hallway.
Tommy was asleep on the couch.
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I kept my eyes on Ms. Hart. “They just lost Mom and Dad.”
“I know, Rowan,” she said gently.
“No. If you did, you wouldn’t be telling me to split them up like mismatched socks.”
Her face softened. “Rowan, you’re eighteen.”
“I know how old I am.”
“You have no degree and no steady income. According to the paperwork, the mortgage is behind.”
“I can work. I can learn. Just don’t split them up.”
“They just lost Mom and Dad.”
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“It isn’t that simple.”
I looked at Tommy, curled under his blanket, with one hand still holding Mom’s old keychain. “Neither is telling a six-year-old he lost his parents and his family in the same week.”
