I don't know what everyone's problem is. My mom, my sister, Alanna - none of them can take care of themselves anymore.
So I'll just have to do it for them, whether they like it or not.

"Conner, you're not - are you drinking again?" Megan asked softly.
Conner stiffened, holding her gaze and trying not to flinch at all the worry in her eyes. What was the matter with her? How could she actually ask him that?
"No," he said. He picked up his guitar and began picking at the strings.
"I'm sorry," Megan said. "I shouldn't have said that. It's just . . . you've been acting so stressed out lately, I'm worried about you. That's all. The only other time I've seen you be so crazy is when . . . well, before you went to rehab."
Conner sighed as the anger drained out of him. This was Megan. She had a right to ask him if he was drinking. More of a right than anyone else. "Sandy, I'm not drinking," he insisted. I've thought about it. I've almost done it. But I've stopped myself. So far.
Megan gave him a guilty look. "Okay. I know you've been doing really great. I'm sorry."
Conner sighed again, returning his attention to his guitar. But Megan didn't move. "What?" he said, looking up at her. "Something else?"
"I know you think it's wrong, but I'm still going out with Todd," she said. "You can't run my life for me." She took two steps back and grabbed on to the door handle. "You're just going to have to get a grip," she said, then left.
Conner nearly slammed his guitar down on the floor. He was going to have to get a grip? He wasn't the one going too far here.