Dexter’s POV
I had not been waiting.
I want to be clear about that, I had not positioned myself in the kitchen at eleven fifteen on a Saturday evening specifically to be present when she came home. I had come for water. I had stayed because my legs had apparently made a separate decision from my brain and declined to take me back to my room.
I was at the counter with a glass I had filled twenty minutes ago and not touched when I heard the key in the lock.
I heard her put her keys on the hook. The small pause in the hallway, she always did that, a moment of stillness before she committed to whatever room she was going to. Then footsteps. Then she was in the kitchen doorway.
I looked at her.
Something was different.
Not the easy lightness of the first date, the loose smile and the w
