I didn’t argue. I didn’t ask him why. We slid out the back door like we were sneaking into our own yard, the patio still warm under our feet, the pool cover gleaming dull and harmless in the fading light. The bushes at the fence line clawed at our legs as we folded ourselves into the dark. From there, the house looked like a picture on a realtor’s flyer: bright, inviting, oblivious. Noah shook so hard his teeth clicked. “Who’s coming?” I whispered. He just stared at the street. When the black sedan rolled into view and idled in front of my driveway, I felt his whole body flinch. I already knew that car. Mr. Foster’s crumpled receipt with the partial plate number was still on my fridge. But the man who stepped out of the driver’s seat made my brain refuse its own eyes. My brother-in-law. My nephew’s father. My spare key glinting in his han… Continues…
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