He took one look at me and said, “What can I do?”

“Take care of my apartment,” I said.

“There’s barely food in the kitchen, and if Piper comes home with me, I want her to have everything she needs.”

“Done.”

He didn’t ask for more.

I loved him for that.

Whitney’s father had died when she was fifteen.

She grew up listening to Dolores describe the sacrifices she had made alone, and she was expected to repay them through unquestioning loyalty.