Ten minutes. She’d only been there for ten minutes, and she was already on the verge of ripping her hair out. Not surprising since Roxie was seated stiffly at her mother’s dinner table, her hands curled around the edge of her chair like she needed something to anchor her, or maybe stop her from following through with the urge to go bald with frustration.
Roxie felt as though she couldn’t draw a deep breath into her lungs. Everything just felt… Too much. The tension was so high it made the room feel too crowded, too quiet, too hot. Every gaze felt like a judgment and accusation. Not even the delicious aroma of food could lessen it.
The only light in the room was her son. Josiah swung his legs beside her, humming to himself, totally unaware of the storm brewing around the grown-ups. Lucky
