Page 16 of Lose You Twice

Tuition. Books. Gas.

The twins’ lunch accounts. Mom’s red-letter bills. Holden’s twenty-three dollars that are probably left over from last summer when he would find time to pick up odd jobs between baseball camps.

The apartment I’m not moving into.

Dad’s income, counted like a resource when all it has ever been is a weapon he gets to hold from a distance.

My chest tightens, and I can feel the panic rising in my throat.

Not here. I can’t do this here.

I turn toward the nearest bathroom, already calculating how long I can hide in a stall before someone notices, when my phone alarm goes off.

2:15 — PICK UP THE TWINS. DO NOT FORGET THE TINY HUMANS.

I stare at the screen before laughing. I laugh because if I don’t, I might start screaming, and screaming in the financial assistance hallway feels like the kind of thing that gets you gently escorted somewhere with pamphlets.

I silence the alarm and adjust my bag on my shoulder.

Fine. Great. Perfect.

Guess my mental crash-out can wait another hour.

3

WREN

By the time I make it to the twins’ elementary school, I have half a tank of gas, a folded financial aid worksheet in my bag, and the strong desire to fake my own death.

Nothing overly dramatic, just a tasteful disappearance.

Maybe a new identity in a coastal town in Italy where nobody knows me, nobody needs me, and every bill gets paid by a mysterious rich aunt who appears out of nowhere with excellent timing and zero emotional baggage.

Unfortunately, I do not have a mysterious rich aunt.

I have an old Honda with a weird clicking noise, a phone battery at eighteen percent, and two six-year-olds barreling toward me like glitter-covered gremlins.

“Wren!” Daisy screams.

Lily is right behind her, backpack bouncing against her shoulders, and one shoelace flapping in the wind with each step she takes.

Daisy reaches me first, launching herself at my waist. I catch her on instinct and stumble back a step.

“Oof. Hi to you too.”

“I got a star sticker,” she says into my sweatshirt.

“I got two,” Lily announces, because love is real but competition is forever.

Daisy’s head snaps up. “Mine is bigger.”

“Mine are shinier.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“It counts double.”

I look between them. “Wow. First grade sounds awesome.”