“Jaclyn made a mistake,” Clay said, his voice climbing back into that quick, stubborn rhythm.

“She’s young, Mom.

People mess up when they’re overwhelmed.

You don’t wreck somebody’s life over one bad night.”

“Look at your son’s arms once you’re off the plane,” I said.

“I can’t just walk off the rig,” Clay snapped.

“I’m under contract.”

“Then stay up in North Dakota,” I said.