He came back after dark like a habit: no knock this time, just the sound of his boots deciding the porch belonged to him. Nolan had stepped out for coffee; my mother had taken a tray to a neighbor; the house was down to old wood and me.
I opened the door before he could. “If you break the latch," I said, “you're paying for it."
“Good," Taylor said, stepping in anyway. “Then we're talking."
“We talked," I said, closing the door behind him. “You didn't like the answers."
His eyes cut to my cheek, to my bandaged hands, to the stack of copied receipts on the hall table. “Did you leak them," he asked, voice low and rough, “to the forum?"
“Yes," I said. “To the whole town."
He exhaled, almost a laugh and almost a threat. “Finally, honesty."
“I've been honest for days," I said. “You're lat
