Trevor was doing his fussy thing again, even though she had to agree the mud was extensive. The entire property seemed to be a mud field, with a tiny brown patch of grass by the front of the house, which had a wide porch, minus rails. It was a modest one-story with brown siding that seemed to match the surroundings and appeared much like a work in progress.
There were a ton of trees in the distance and what looked like broken-down rusted-out cars and trucks at the side of the property—five, six, no, seven. Then there were six garbage cans by the road, so full the lids wouldn’t sit tightly on. Okay, not the neatest of places, but that didn’t matter. She hopped up on the porch to the off-white door and glanced back to see Trevor stepping around the mud onto the brown scrap of grass and wipi
