Matthew's phone rang and he went out to take the call.
Ava stood in the middle of the living room like someone had just pulled the ground out from under her and she hadn’t fallen yet. Her mouth was still slightly open. Her hand was still half-raised from where she had pointed at the door.
The house felt… wrong.
Matthew lingered by the entrance for a second longer than necessary. His hand remained on the doorknob. Like he was thinking of opening it again.
He didn’t look at Ava.
That hurt more than if he had.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said finally.
His voice was low and controlled.
Ava let out a short breath. It wasn’t a laugh, but it wasn’t far from one.
“Do what?” she asked quietly.
He turned, and their eyes met. And something flickered there—confusion, defensiveness… som
