Even now, Zoe sent money home to her mom every month to help pay the bills.

Her mom had made some serious miscalculations in her young life. Education wasn’t possible when she found herself pregnant at sixteen . . . the man she married, Zoe’s dad, went on to father all three of them, then handled the stress by being a mean drunk who used his fists to get his point across. The day he went to jail for the last time both labeled her and saved her.

Ziggy Brown wanted all of his children named after him. Hence all the Zs in the family. It wasn’t until the trial that Zoe learned that Ziggy wasn’t even her father’s real first name. It was Theodore.

For some reason this thought popped into her head as she left her rental car and walked up the weed-filled path to the front door of the place she’d called home for eighteen years.

Only it wasn’t home anymore.

Her hand hesitated as she went to knock. Giving in to both urges, she knocked once and twisted the handle to let herself in.

Scent hit her first. The musty familiarity of worn furniture and the never truly clean carpet layered on top of each other like icing on cake. The added scent of a baby still in diapers reminded her Blaze lived there.

The television blared to an empty living room. Zoe glanced to the left; the kitchen was void of people, too. “Hello?”

She’d called her mom before coming over and knew Sheryl was going to be home.

“Mom!”

“Back here.”

Zoe placed her purse on the coffee table, the same one she’d done her homework on as a kid . . . the same one she and the girls had sat around eating pizza and often drinking something they shouldn’t have been.

Zoe followed the sound of her mom’s voice and found her in Zanya’s room, changing Blaze’s diaper.

Sheryl wore ill-fitting clothes Zoe was sure she recognized, and Blaze was in nothing but a T-shirt and a diaper when her mom finished the job.

“Look who is so big!” Zoe used a high-pitched voice and settled her eyes on her nephew.

“I was wondering when you’d grace us with your presence.” There was jealousy in her voice.

“Oh, Mom.” Zoe offered a one-arm hug and kissed her cheek.

Blaze gave her a cheeky smile and kicked his feet when Sheryl sat him up.

“Where is Zanya?”

“Working. She got a job in Waterville at that burger joint.” That explained the lack of a car in the driveway.

“It’s good she’s working.”

Sheryl puffed out a breath. “Yeah, but now I’m babysitting.”

Zoe could see the stress on her mom’s features. The woman had always looked ten years older than she was, but lately it seemed worse.

She reached her arms out to Blaze, who happily took the opportunity to play with someone else. Zoe placed her lips to the top of his head the second she picked him up. He smelled fresh and innocent. Opposite of everything these four walls represented. “Hey, baby boy.”

Sheryl took the reprieve and left the room with Zoe following.

Zoe sat on the couch, watching Blaze study her. “You look like your mommy.” And he did . . . the dark hair that all of them had, dark eyes and slightly olive skin.

Sheryl spoke to her from the open counter leading into the kitchen. “Let’s hope he doesn’t get fat like his deadbeat father.”

“Mom!”

“What? It’s true.”

“Yeah, but Blaze doesn’t need to grow up hearing that.”

“He’s too young to understand.”

“True, but you say it now and will continue when he’s three, when he does understand your words.”

“By the time he’s three, Zanya and Mylo had best have their shit figured out and be on their own. I’m not doing this forever.”

As much as her mom protested, she would never kick them out. She had a healthy fear of being alone.

“If Zanya has a job, she’s figuring it out.”

Sheryl huffed, unconvinced.

“C’mon, Mom . . . no one understands better than you how hard it is to be a single parent.”

“And I thought I taught all of you not to do it.”

“Telling people not to have sex is like trying to hold back the tide. Zanya’s a smart girl, she’ll figure it out.”

“Zanya’s just a baby and trying hard to fall into my footsteps with the wrong choices. At least I was married to your father.”

This was not the defense Zoe expected from her mom. “Great help there! Nothing like getting your ass kicked weekly to remind you who to be loyal to.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

Words died in Zoe’s mouth. How could she say that? “I was there, Mom. It was worse than bad. Zanya is better off on her own than hooking up with someone like Ziggy.” She didn’t honor the man by using the terms Dad or Father.

“At least he pulled in money sometimes.”

“Oh, my God! What the hell?” Blaze must have sensed the rising tension and started to fuss in Zoe’s lap. She didn’t know a lot about babies, but she had seen people bounce them on their knees, so she started to move her legs in an attempt to calm him.

It worked.

“He put you in the hospital more than once, Mom. None of us escaped his inability to hold his liquor.”

“I’m sure all those years in prison have taught him a lesson.”

Zoe felt her chest tighten. “What’s this all about? We haven’t talked about him in years.”