Raven and I stood at the front door like statues carved from suspense. The door was shut, but the glass panel let us see everything—the darkening driveway, the bruised sky glowing in shades of violet and gold, the porch lights flickering on and casting soft halos across the concrete.
My fingers curled tightly around the frame while Raven shifted nervously beside me, her eyes flicking toward the driveway every few seconds. The warmth of the day had slipped away, leaving behind a tension that hummed in the air like a waiting storm.
Mom had heard the sharp double honk of Dad’s car from the kitchen. She rushed in, apron still tied around her waist, streaks of flour on her cheek like forgotten war paint. The scent of cinnamon and garlic butter trailed behind her, but nobody noticed. Right now
