I swallowed. My throat was dry. I had rehearsed the conversation in my head the entire cab ride, but the script scattered at the sight of his expression.
“I came to see my family,” I said, and hated how small my voice sounded. “I need help.”
Michael’s jaw tightened. He leaned forward, his hand braced on the doorframe like he needed something to hold him steady.
“Mom,” he said again, and this time he lowered his voice, like my presence itself was an inconvenience. “You can’t stay here.”
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