My father, Raymond, had leaned across the driver’s seat to add his own contribution. “We don’t have room for you.”

Lily had begged them, rain already soaking through her jacket. “But Grandma, it’s pouring and it’s miles away!”

That’s when my sister, Miranda, appeared in the passenger seat, her face twisted in that familiar smirk I’d grown to hate over the years. Her two children, Bryce and Chloe, sat dry and comfortable in the back seat, staring out at their cousin with blank expressions. “My kids deserve the comfortable ride,” Miranda had said, before my father drove away.