saying it.
The familiar phrase people use when the truth is too complicated to explain on a doorstep.
Mother’s face crumpled.
Without asking questions, she reached for Noah.
I let her take him.
Dad appeared behind her in an old Navy sweatshirt and sweatpants.
I’d never seen him look less like a federal judge.
He looked at Lily, then me, then my wrist.
His jaw tightened.
“Come inside.”
Nothing more.
No speeches.
No threats.
No influential phone calls.
Just an invitation inside.
The house smelled of coffee, pine, and cinnamon.
