The day I took my son to his SAT testing center, I ended up in my ex-boyfriend Lance Stephens's volunteer car.

His hands rested on the steering wheel of a Maybach. He was nothing like the broke kid I'd known.

He didn't recognize me, but his gaze drifted to my son.

“What's wrong with him?”

I smiled bitterly. “He hit his head as a toddler. Cerebral palsy.”

“It doesn't affect his intelligence, though,” I added.

Lance clicked his tongue. “My kid's taking the SATs today too. She was worried some students from low-income families wouldn't have a ride, so she made me come volunteer.”

“Kids are their parents' whole world. I get it.” His face softened with indulgence. “She's the only one I'll ever need in this life.”

I watched his smiling face in the rearview mirror, and something cinched tight behind my ribs. What he didn't know was that Mike was his child too.

……

When we got out, rain had started to fall. I cheered Mike on and watched him push through the downpour toward the testing center. Lance came up behind me.

“So you actually kept that bastard.”

I froze. Then he kept going.

“And he turned out to be a cripple. God really does have a sense of justice.”

Lance lit a cigarette and pointed toward a girl standing tall and straight in the crowd.

“That's my daughter. Adopted, sure, but she's obedient, well-behaved, and perfectly healthy.”

He lowered his voice. “Betraying me back then—do you regret it yet?”

My whole body locked up. Then I saw a woman walk over to his side.

“Honey, I thought you were driving test-takers. Why are you chatting up some other woman?”

Lance exhaled a slow ring of smoke, that same contempt still in his eyes. “Her son has cerebral palsy. Probably can't even take care of himself.”

“Ew.” The woman stepped back. “You need to get that car detailed. How'd you end up picking someone like that? What awful luck.”

I lowered my head so I wouldn't have to see the malice in her eyes.

“Honey, it's raining. Let's get a hotel room and rest for a bit.”

“Sure.” Lance smiled and brushed past me.

That retreating figure had nothing left of the boy he'd once been.

Memories of Lance Stephens crashed into me all at once.

We'd started as seatmates in high school. The day we both got into the same university, I said yes when he confessed.

Three years and four months together, loving each other down to the bone, until I got pregnant with his child in that tiny rented room.

I didn't know what to do.

I thought of my family's clan rules. My father's severe face. My mother's swollen, cried-out eyes.

Fat raindrops hammered my body. I huddled under the eaves like something wrecked.

I prayed to the sky. In the sixteen-odd years since Lance and I split, the only thing keeping me alive had been my son.

If he could just take the SATs and get into college, I'd have no regrets left in this life.

During the half year my father kept me locked in the family chapel, I bit down and never once spoke Lance's name.

My mother screamed herself hoarse. “The clan rules won't allow an abortion. If you don't bring that man back, your life is over.”

All I could think of was the way Lance's eyes curved when he smiled, and the textbooks he'd flipped through so many times the pages were falling apart.

I knew that boy from the mountain village dreamed of staying in the city. I couldn't chain him to a life he never asked for.

So I told my parents, “I drank too much off campus that night. I don't even know whose it is.”

After that, the university expelled me. The day I gave birth, I passed out three times from the pain, my nails digging into my own flesh until they cracked and broke.

My father held the newborn and said, “Get rid of him quietly. You stay home. You're not going anywhere.”

I begged him through tears, but the baby in my arms just grinned up at me, oblivious, with eyes that looked exactly like Lance's.

So I ran. I took my child and I ran, and I raised him one odd job at a time for sixteen years.

Sixteen years I'd endured days like that.

The bell cut through my thoughts. I pressed against the railing, craning to catch sight of Mike.

But when he came out, his face was covered in blood.

“What happened?” I grabbed his shoulders, hands shaking.

“I fell.” He wouldn't meet my eyes.

This scene was nothing new. Over the past sixteen years, it had played out more times than I could count.

“Tell me who did this!”

Mike kept his head down.

“They said I'm retarded. That I shouldn't be taking the SATs.”

The tears came before I could stop them. Behind me, Lance walked over with his daughter.

“Retard can't even fight back, just runs crying to Mommy.”

I turned and looked at the girl's haughty face. She had her hands on her hips.

“I heard you and your mom hitched a ride in my dad's car. Someone like you taking the SATs is just a waste of everyone's resources, isn't it?”

She was smiling while she said the cruelest things. “If I'd known it was you, I never would've let my dad give you a ride.”

I clenched my fists and forced the rage in my chest back down. “My son is not retarded. His body just doesn't move right.”

How many times I'd said that sentence, I'd lost count long ago.

I held Mike's trembling back steady and fixed my eyes on Lance.

“Is this how you raise your daughter?”

“What did you just say?!” The girl lunged forward, but Lance caught her arm.

“Ina. Apologize.”

Ina's face was a picture of resentment. She rolled her eyes and squeezed out a sorry through her teeth.

“To make it up to you, let's have a meal together.” Lance's voice was unhurried, almost bored. “My treat.”

I wanted to refuse, but the thought of my near-empty wallet made me hesitate. I looked down at Mike.

His head was bowed. His stomach let out a long, audible growl.

“Mom, I'm hungry.”

Lance could barely keep the mockery off his face. He held the car door open for me and drove us to a Western restaurant without asking.

He flipped through the menu. “Steak, medium rare. One without black pepper. The rest as normal.”

When the food arrived, the memory hit me all at once: the first time Lance and I ever went to a Western restaurant. We'd actually studied how to use a knife and fork beforehand.

But one look at the blood pooling under the steak and we both lost our nerve, insisting the chef cook it all the way through.

We chewed through that tough, overdone steak, laughing at each other the whole time, determined to finish every bite of a meal neither of us could really afford.

But Lance turned out to be allergic to the pepper, and we ended up at the hospital.

Too broke for a hotel, we curled up together in the hospital corridor and spent the night there.

The Lance sitting across from me now handled his knife and fork with practiced ease, cutting the steak on Ina's plate and sliding it in front of her.

He ate the pink meat with obvious pleasure. After all these years apart, he'd worked his way up to medium rare.

The clatter of silverware hitting the floor yanked me back. Mike's pants were stained, and he sat with his head tilted to one side, face burning with shame.

“Can't even use a knife and fork. Joyce, is this really how you've been raising your son?”

I met Lance's half-smiling eyes and thought, of course. He was still the same person who never forgot a grudge.

The year we sat next to each other, I was a class monitor. He'd skipped class, so I wrote his name down.

He spent the entire break begging me to erase it. I refused and reported him to our homeroom teacher anyway.

Soon enough, I was the one singled out. I hadn't run during PE, and Lance, the PE class representative, pulled me out of line.

He made me stand in the sun as punishment. I stood there until my period bled through my pants and the heat knocked me unconscious.

After that, Lance changed completely. He dropped the antagonism, stopped picking fights with me, and started deferring to me in everything.

He told me later that watching me collapse was the first time he'd ever felt his heart ache for someone.

He carried me on his back and sprinted to the nurse's office. A twenty-minute walk, and he covered it in six.

Outside the infirmary door, Lance kept watch the entire night.

His sweat soaked through his shirt, but his heart wouldn't stop racing.

Every time he brought it up afterward, guilt would cloud his face. He'd pull me into his arms and press his lips to every inch of skin he could reach.

I remembered so clearly how much he loved me, down to his very bones.

But the Lance in front of me now had nothing in his eyes but mockery. He let out a cold laugh.

“Ina, look at him. He can barely manage a meal. What's there to be upset about?”

“Joyce, your son isn't like normal people. Stop trying so hard.”

The words drove into my chest like a blade. Acid bitterness flooded my chest.

“Mikey, let's go.”

I took my son's hand and wiped the stains from his clothes.

But the moment I turned, someone grabbed a fistful of my hair and wrenched me back.

“Joyce. How long are you going to keep hiding?”

My father had my hair twisted in his grip. That familiar face was now creased with wrinkles.

“I've been looking for you two for sixteen years. I knew the SATs would flush you out.”

“Dump this bastard child and come home with me!”

Mike struggled to push my father's hand away, his words slurred and desperate.

“Let go of Mommy. Let go of Mommy.”

My father shoved Mike aside with one hand. “Joyce, you're barely in your thirties. Ditch this idiot and you can still find someone.”

“No!” I begged. “Mike has his exam today. Can this wait? Please?”

“Wait?” My father's eyes went wide. “If I let you go now, will I ever find you again?”

He started dragging me toward the door.

“Lance, help me.”

I reached for him, helpless. His eyes were dark, unreadable.

The next second, Mike, stumbling backward, crumpled to the floor.

“Mikey!” I tore free of my father, barely registering the searing pain in my scalp, and threw myself down beside him. The pepper in the steak. It hit me all at once.

I never imagined he'd inherit even Lance's allergy.

“Lance, take us to the hospital. I'm begging you.”

His expression stayed cold, but the car tore through every light. I didn't breathe again until Mike was out of danger.

Mike looked up at me, face white as paper. “Mom, can I still take my SATs?”

I smoothed his hair. “Don't worry. The doctor said once the IV's done, you can leave.”

He managed a small smile. “Mom, thank you. I won't let you down.”

I already knew that. My Mikey had always been incredible.

He'd endured more hardship in his years than I had in mine. He went from crying in secret to learning how to smile and shake his head instead.

During those homeless days, we watched so many night skies together. He'd put his arm around me and say:

“Mom, someday I'm going to make something of myself. No one's ever going to look down on you again.”

He'd gaze up at the stars. That was where his love of astronomy lived, and where his dream lived too.

The SATs were the only key that could break that lock.

I tucked the blanket around him and stepped out of the room to thank Lance.

“I'll pay you back for the hospital bill as soon as I can.”

I paused, then added:

“Please don't tell anyone which room Mike is in. I'm afraid my father will come after us.”

Lance didn't answer for a long time. He just studied me.

“Joyce, wasn't being with me good enough?”

“You had to go whoring around off campus and bring back a fatherless cripple.”

I lowered my eyes.

No one knew the real reason Mike was the way he was. On his second birthday, someone told him his father was outside the window. He pushed it open, tumbled out onto the awning below, and the fall damaged his brain.

Lance went on. “The night you cheated on me, I was working an overnight shift just to cover rent on that apartment.”