Emily gripped the edge of the counter, her knuckles whitening.
“I’m not complaining. Jason took my car again. His tire’s been flat for weeks and he hasn’t fixed it. I need to get to work.”
“Jason needs the car today,” Rebecca replied, as if it were unquestionable. “He’s had a stressful few days.”
Emily let out a dry laugh.
“Stressful? From staying up all night gaming and hanging out in the yard? I’m the one working. I’m the one keeping this house afloat.”
Before Rebecca could answer, the back door opened and Frank, her father, stepped in, his hands stained with grease from working on an old motorcycle he’d been restoring—often with parts bought using money he’d quietly taken from Emily. He didn’t ask what was happening. His irritation was already aimed at her.
“Why are you always causing problems?” he muttered. “Can’t we have one peaceful morning?”
Emily felt that familiar pressure in her chest—the feeling of being blamed before she even spoke.
“I just need my keys. If I’m late again, I’ll get written up.”
Rebecca finally turned toward her, her expression sharp.