“Where’s Josh?” I say instead in as controlled a tone as I can muster.
“He’s making dinner. We’re having pasta with cut-up sausages!” Reagan whoops. That earns her another glare from Caroline. Then the girls scurry into the kitchen, gesturing for me to follow them.
I find Josh at the stove, prepping the pasta. “Josh?” I ask as we approach. “You okay?”
The way his shoulders stiffen and the fact that it takes him a moment to turn around tells me that he’s very far from okay.
“Girls, why don’t you go wash up and get ready for dinner?” I suggest. The moment they’re gone, I walk over to Josh. “What happened?”
He’s not meeting my eye. He just keeps stirring the pasta unnecessarily. I clamp a hand down on his wrist, forcing him to stop.
“Josh, honey, talk to me.”
“Nothing happened. It’s ju
