One

ONE

Aria

Five years Earlier

"I'll have Aria pick up Jazzy, and I'll be right there. Don't panic."

Hearing my father's words, I was suddenly tense. Because before he even answered the phone, he'd indicated it was my mom calling. Why would he be telling her not to panic? Granted, my mom had a flair for dramatics, but this sounded different.

Where was my mom, and where was my dad planning to go?

Dad disconnected the call, a strange look washing over his expression. He shook off whatever it was and said, "I need you to run home and pick up your sister, please."

"Okay. Sure. What's going on? Is Mom alright?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, she's alright. She was in an accident on the way back here from her appointment, but she's okay. She's just shaken up, so I told her I'll come out to meet her. But I don't want you to be here alone. I'll call Jaz and let her know you're on your way."

Without hesitating, I moved to grab my purse and keys from beneath the front counter and ran out the door. If my mom was calling my dad, the chances were that it was worse than he was letting on. Doing my best not to panic, to keep my composure, I hopped in my car and took off toward the house.

My sister, Jasmine, and I still lived at home with our parents. I'd just turned twenty-five and was saving up for my own place with my sister. We were going to share an apartment, so we could save on rent costs while she finished up school and I worked toward my goals of saving for my own place and pursuing my ultimate dream job.

Jasmine was going to school now at the local community college, since she still didn't have a clear picture as to what she wanted to do with her life and the costs made sense. I'd already graduated, and I knew exactly what I wanted to do. Unfortunately, the career I wanted was one that required a lot of time and patience. And not everyone who endeavored to become an artist would ever see the success I hoped to achieve one day, so I had to be realistic and work another job in the meantime.

For now, that meant helping my parents run their general merchandise store here in the town where we lived. We did well enough for ourselves. We weren't rich by any means, but we had everything we needed. We'd always gotten by, and even as kids, Jasmine and I never felt like we were missing out.

Our house was close to the store, and with the worry for my mom in the back of my mind, I made it home in a matter of minutes. My sister was already waiting for me, and judging by her expression, it was obvious our dad hadn't held back on communicating the seriousness of the situation.

She ran toward the car and hopped in.

"Hey, Jazzy," I greeted her.

"Aria, is Mom okay? Dad wouldn't tell me anything."

I sent an apologetic look her way. "Physically, I think she's fine. She was talking to him on the phone, but I think she was panicking a bit. Maybe much like you are doing now."

When it came to personalities in the family, Jazzy took after Mom. They didn't hide how they felt from anyone. Scared, happy, angry, sad, or anything in between—they shared it all. Dad and I were more reserved in that regard. It wasn't that we were unfeeling; we simply managed our emotions better. Or maybe it was worse, depending on how you looked at it, because it took a lot for us to get emotional about anything.

"It has to be bad if he needs to go meet her," she insisted.

"I mean, he said she was a little shaken up, but I don't really know the specifics," I explained. "But I think if it was really bad, he would have taken off immediately or closed for a few minutes while I came back to get you and he went to be with Mom. Either way, I'm sure she's going to be fine."

Whether Jazzy believed there was any validity to my words or not, I didn't know. But she didn't argue with me about it, either. And before I knew it, we were back at the store. We'd barely walked through the front door when Dad was zooming through it to leave. "I don't know how long this will take, but I should be back before closing. "

"Okay. We'll see you soon."

A moment later, he was gone.

My sister and I held down the fort and easily managed the handful of customers that had come into the store after Dad left. I never suspected we'd have a problem, but on the few rare occasions when he would need to leave the store, Dad simply couldn't bear the thought of any one of us—Mom, Jazzy, or me—being alone.

It was about thirty minutes before closing when my phone rang, and my dad's name was on the display.

"Hey, Dad. Is everything okay?" I greeted him.

His voice was solemn, which was very unusual for him. "I'm just checking on you and your sister. Mom and I are just getting ready to leave, but she's really struggling emotionally right now, so?—"

"Jazzy and I can lock up," I assured him. "Just go home, and we'll meet you there after we close everything down here."

"Are you sure you two don't mind?" he pressed.

"We've done it a handful of times already. We'll be fine," I insisted.

He let out a frustrated sigh, and I got the feeling it didn't have anything to do with my sister and I needing to shut down the store. Maybe Mom's car was worse than she'd indicated when she called him earlier. "Alright. We'll see you in a little bit then. You're coming home right after, correct?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Be careful, Aria."

I smiled.

That was the response I'd expected from him. My father and I might have been alike when it came to not getting too emotional about much, but if there was one area where he struggled, it would have been with our safety. I could only imagine what was happening inside Melvin Todd's head on a daily basis when it came to his family's safety. He might not get worked up to the point anyone else would notice, but I could see—or hear—the terror he felt for his wife and daughters on occasion.

"We will. See you soon, Dad."

My father and I said goodbye and disconnected. "Then, as casually as I could, I told my sister that she and I were closing the store while our dad looked after our mom and got her home. Jasmine insisted things had to be worse than Dad had indicated, because she didn't think there was any way he wouldn't have come to the store to lock up with us, even if he dropped Mom at home first.

I didn't allow my sister's wild thoughts to impact me too much. Since she was a worrier by nature, and I'd grown accustomed to her pessimistic outlook, it wasn't terribly difficult to do. For the most part, I did okay. But there was that one part of me that recalled the sound of my father's tone when he'd called as well as the look on his face when he got off the phone with my mom earlier, and I wondered if Jasmine's worries held any merit.

Jasmine and I got through the next thirty minutes, both of us taking steps to make sure we'd be able to leave almost as soon as we closed. Barely ten minutes later, we pulled up outside our house.

And when we walked through the door, I instantly regretted not taking Jasmine's concerns more seriously. I could feel the tension in the air.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong .

"Mom?" Jasmine called as we entered the living room and found our parents sitting on the couch, looking like the life had been drained from their bodies.

Oh, yeah. Something was terribly wrong.

Mom lifted her gaze to Jasmine, and she held her stare for several beats before she looked at me. That's when it hit me.

Mom's car was outside, along with my dad's car. It was parked in the same spot it always was, looking like it usually did. Wanting to confirm I wasn't losing my mind, I begrudgingly tore my attention from my mother's face and moved to the window.

Sure enough, I confirmed my suspicions.

Unless there was some massive damage done to the back of the car that I couldn't see from my vantage point, which I could very easily work out wasn't the case, there wasn't a single scratch on it.

I looked back at my parents. glance at my dad told me everything I needed to know. He knew I'd caught on; he knew I understood they'd lied about what happened today, even if I didn't yet know why.

Jasmine was oblivious. She ran forward, throwing her arms around our mom, and asked, "Are you okay? Were you hurt?"

The devastation was written all over Florence Todd's face. Whatever this was, it was huge. Of that, I had not a single doubt.

I continued to stare at my parents. Mostly, I kept my focus on my father's face. He broke the connection first, blinking his eyes rapidly to contain his emotions. I'd never seen him like that.

Ever .

Not once had my dad ever broken down. He was always strong, always tough.

What was happening?

Jasmine loosened her hold on our mom, pulled back, and repeated, "Are you okay?"

Tears filled Mom's eyes, and she lifted her hand to cup Jasmine's cheek. "Oh, my sweet Jazzy."

"Did you get hurt?"

I couldn't take it any longer. Before my mom had a chance to respond, I blurted, "There was no car accident."

Three sets of eyes came in my direction, but it was my sister who responded. "What?"

"Mom's car is in the driveway, Jaz. There's not a scratch on it."

Jasmine's eyes darted between me and our parents. She seemed unable to accept what I'd just said, and her expression indicated she desperately needed an explanation.

Since nobody made the effort to do that, I demanded it. "What's going on? Why did you lie to us today?"

"Aria, why don't you sit down?" my dad suggested.

Oh no.

No.

Asking someone to sit down was a sign of disaster. I always wondered if that suggestion was made more for the person advising it. It couldn't be for the person who was being asked to have a seat. It had to be because people recognized someone might take off running and never look back if they were standing when their world was turned upside down.

Shaking my head, unwilling to succumb to bad news before it was delivered, I pressed, "What's wrong?"

I needed the facts. Once I had the facts, I could panic. I could freak out. Not until then. And even then, never outwardly. I'd take it in—whatever it was—and I'd bottle it up. I'd allow my mind to run wild with thoughts and questions and feelings. But I wouldn't do it until I knew I had a reason to, until I understood precisely what was happening.

"Aria, please sit down."

That came from my mom, and the sound of her voice was so ragged, it was a wonder I could make out the words. She was begging me, pleading.

Despite that, regardless of the painful ache it placed in the center of my chest, I didn't do what she asked.

Did my parents think I was an idiot? The longer they went without saying a word, without sharing the truth, the more the pieces aligned for me.

Mom had been acting strange for a few weeks now. Initially, I'd brushed it off as her being her usual self. She and Jasmine could get weird at times. In fact, it was one of the things that my dad and I often connected over. We'd never come right out and say anything to their faces about it, but we experienced some solidarity in the moments when it seemed two of the people we loved most in the world were melting down. We'd exchanged a look, and maybe a grin, and I knew he felt just as I did in those moments.

But this wasn't one of those times.

Clearly, I'd been wrong.

And now that I was making that distinction, I couldn't ignore the reality.

The car was fine, there hadn't been an accident, the tension in the air was palpable—suffocating, even—and my parents were begging me to have a seat .

I already knew what the problem was. They just needed to admit it.

Mom went to the doctor today. That was the only explanation. That had to be what this was about.

And since it hit me full force, like a physical blow to the gut, I demanded answers. "Tell us what happened at the doctor today."

Jasmine gasped. "What? Wait. What is she talking about?"

There was a beat of tense silence, despair etched into every crease on both of my parents' faces, before my mom rasped, "I'm sick."

"Sick? How? What do you mean?" Jaz questioned her.

"It's cancer," she shared.

And that was the moment it happened. The type of cancer, the prognosis, or the treatment plan didn't factor into what I experienced.

My mom had cancer. The confirmation was all I needed to react. But my reaction wasn't like Jazzy's reaction. Where she burst into tears almost immediately, I stood stock still and stared.

Like a person with a gun pointed at their head, I didn't move a muscle. But on the inside, I could feel it happening. Something coiled painfully in my belly, and the ache in my throat convinced me I wouldn't be able to speak if I tried.

So, I didn't.

I allowed my sister to gather all the information with her incessant questions, questions she'd fired one after the other without even waiting for a response.

"Relax, Jaz," Dad urged gently.

"Relax? How can you be so calm? Mom has cancer! "

He closed his eyes and sighed. God, he was defeated, and I feared the absolute worst.

Mom covered Jasmine's hands with hers, an effort to calm my sister down, and shared, "Bladder cancer."

Jasmine burst into tears all over again, wrapping her arms around Mom like she never wanted to let her go.

Dad finally found his voice. "What we know so far is that it doesn't look like it has spread to the surrounding muscle, tissues, or other organs. They want to do some chemo to shrink the tumor before they go in for surgery to remove it. Afterward, they'll want to do more chemo to kill any remaining cancer cells not removed during the surgery."

A plan.

Great.

There was a plan. And it sounded solid.

"So, it's going to be okay?" I asked.

"That's the hope," my mom said. "But it's going to be a long, difficult battle. A costly battle given our insurance being what it is."

Money was the last thing that mattered to me. We could deal with the costs later. The most important part was getting Mom healthy again.

My mind needed to focus on the details, on the next steps. That's how I'd get through this.

"This isn't going to be easy on any of us," Dad advised, his voice sounding tortured.

God, this was awful. I was so used to seeing my dad be the strong one, and right now, he didn't have that in him. This was crushing him.

So, I decided right then and there that I'd be what my family needed. "We're going to be okay. Mom's going to be okay. And we're all going to do whatever we've got to do to get through this together."

"Aria, I think you need?—"

I held up my hand and shifted back and forth on my feet. "No. I don't need anything other than acceptance of what I've just said. We're fighting this battle together. Mom's not doing it alone. When this is over, when the treatments are done and Mom is better, every sacrifice we make will have been worth it."

Seemingly aware I didn't intend to back down, my father's chin jerked down slightly, and tears rolled down Mom's cheeks as a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Jasmine was a mess. No doubt she believed the worst in this scenario.

"Jazzy!" I called.

She lifted her head from where it was resting on Mom's shoulder, wiped at her tears, and looked at me.

Once I had her attention, I ordered, "You can't fall apart on us. We need you. Mom needs you."

Jazzy nodded.

I smiled. "Are you in?"

"Yeah," she whispered.

"Good." Needing a moment to deal with how I felt about everything that had just been dumped in our laps, I said, "I'll make dinner."

Without another word, without even giving my mom a hug, I took off toward the kitchen and got to work.

I pressed my lips together and focused on what needed to be done. It wouldn't do me any good to cry. My mom was going to be fine, and I needed to hold my family together until they all realized that was the truth.