Cammy's phone buzzed furiously, the sound slicing through the silence of the car like a siren. Again and again it rang—persistent, demanding. She glanced at the screen. Ric.
She clenched the wheel tighter and let it ring. Her jaw was set, her chest tight with everything she couldn't yet face.
From the back seat, Dylan's small voice cut through the tension.
"Mommy… aren't you going to answer your phone? It says it's Uncle Ric."
Cammy's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. Dylan was watching her, concern blooming across his innocent face.
She swallowed hard, then offered a gentle smile through the ache in her chest. "Okay, sweetheart. Can you answer it for me? Tell Uncle Ric that Mommy is driving... and we're on our way to your favorite fried chicken place."
Dylan grinned and grabbed the phone. "Hi, Uncle Ric! Mommy is driving and we're going to my favorite chicken place!"
