Pick up my phone.
Scroll to Emily’s name.
Dial.
“Hey.” Her voice is a whisper. “Something wrong?”
“I only made it two miles away from your retreat,” I say. “I need to come back.”
“You left something?”
“I can’t drive all the way home like this…” I hesitate. “Can I sleep on your couch?”
“Yeah, sure. Are you having a migraine?”
“No. Worse. I’ll try to explain when I?—”
Tap. Tap.
A police officer knocks on my window.
I lower it halfway as he shines a flashlight in my face.
“Sir, you need to move out of traffic,” he says. “Now.”
“I’m having an episode,” I say. “I will in a minute.”
“License and registration, please.”
I flip down the visor. The paper registration drops into my lap. I open the center console, flipping between my “Dawson” and “Banks” licenses, and hand him the Dawson one.
He walks toward his patrol car, but halfway there, he stops.
“Are you by any chance related to Aidan Dawson?” he asks, back at my window now. “From theFamily Valuespodcast?”
“He’s my father.”
“Oh my—wow.” His face lights up like it’s a meet-and-greet. “I thought you looked familiar. My son’s doing the same thing—taking a gap year to do art. You’re kind of an inspiration in our house.”
I nod, jaw tight. “I wish him all the best.”
“What were you saying earlier—an episode?” His tone shifts to concern. “Want me to call EMTs?”
“No, it’s pretty much passed.”
“I’m sorry you’re still dealing with the trauma from that boat accident long ago,” he says. “Your father talked about that in one of his episodes. Said it changed everything for you two.”
I arch a brow.
Right.
Another lie.
My father has spun so many versions of our life, I can’t even keep up anymore. I make a mental note to listen to whatever clip this guy heard—just so I know what story we’re in now.
“Your dad should’ve sued that other boater,” the officer adds. “He’s a better man than me.”
No. You’re probably ten times better than he is.
