The Spencer boys were asleep upstairs. Apparently they’d crashed shortly after welcoming the younger Toby into their already crowded room. The rest of us sat around the kitchen table.
You’d think it would be uncomfortable, gathering there again. So many words of anger and betrayal already permeated the air, while even more damaging ones hung over us, waiting to be spoken. But exhaustion saved Dad and me and the Spencers from the worst social awkwardness, and Addy was too amped with adrenaline and accomplishment to notice anyway.
I avoided looking at my father and seeing my own bedraggled state reflected back at me. Clint’s face was flushed and Deborah’s pale, but they had matching hollow, red-rimmed eyes. Deborah had brewed a pot of decaf, but my guts recoiled at the sight of it. Instead
