FOR SOME REASON—PROBABLY because of Dad’s warning—dinner passed as the quietest meal all week. The pie held enough gravy and steak to leave a hungered man groaning, the mash melted on my tongue Dad had added so much butter, and along with the carrots, they all filled a spot I realised I’d been neglecting. Even Dan seemed contented enough to keep his trap shut for a while.
As I scooped up the remnants of mash and gravy from my plate, a low rumble carried in from the driveway—one I recognised as Ethan’s truck. I lifted my head, catching Dad’s gaze on me.
“Expecting someone?” he asked.
I shook my head, hoping my features stayed as impassive as I tried to make them, and peered back over my shoulder toward the heavy footsteps approaching the front door.
A few seconds later, it swung open to
