The first hard freeze came early.
I came home from work to find Noah seated on the front steps, his backpack beside him and no coat on. He was wearing a sweatshirt, and his hands were tucked under his arms.
"Why are you outside?"
"Evan said he'd be home by five."
"It's almost six."
"I know."
The front door was locked. I fumbled for my keys, then saw Evan's truck pull into the driveway. He got out, face pinched with worry.
"I'm sorry," he said. "The repair crew ran late."
Noah stood and picked up his backpack.
"You could have called," I said.
"My phone died."
I opened the door, and warm air rushed out. Noah went straight to the kitchen. Evan stayed on the porch with me.
"I should've been here," he said.
"Yes."
"I know you're angry."
"I'm not angry. I'm scared that all of us k
