Micah’s POV

My phone rang.

I didn’t recognize the number, but I knew the timing—midday, mid-semester, mid-sanity—meant it couldn’t be anything good. When I picked up and heard her voice, I immediately regretted answering.

“Micah.”

My mother. Cold, even when the world was burning.

I sat up straighter. “What’s wrong?”

A pause. And my mother didn’t pause.

“It’s your father,” she said.

I didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink.

“What about him?”

“He’s dead.”

I blinked. “You’re joking.”

She didn’t respond.

“Tell me you’re joking,” I said, sharper this time.

“He had a heart attack. Last night. The pack physician confirmed it this morning. It was fast.”

Silence crashed down on the...