5
Vivian.
The first warning was Gerald’s voice echoing down the hallway—a familiar, brisk tone I hadn’t heard in weeks, followed by the thud of a suitcase. For a second I didn’t believe it. He wasn’t supposed to be home until Friday. It was only Wednesday afternoon, and for a split second I just stood in the living room, heart pounding, my body frozen in place.
“Vivian?” he called, keys jangling. “I’m home!”
Landon was upstairs. I glanced at the staircase and then back at the front door, panic flooding me in a rush so sharp I almost laughed. The house suddenly felt too small, too bright, as if every secret was written on the walls.
I smoothed my hair, forced a smile, and went to greet him. “You’re back early!” I tried to keep my voice light.
Gerald set his suitcase down, looking trav
