GAVIN
The front door flings open. Jack and I, and most dangerously, Harrison, are on our feet in a flash.
But it’s Phil. He’s standing inside the doorway, face red, jaw clenched, keys still in hand like he hasn’t decided whether he’s staying or storming back out.
Parker’s mom glances up from where she’s helping Lyra unwrap a fortune cookie. Harrison is braced, ready for anything. Jack’s in the living room, staring Phil down. The air sharpens. Parker freezes mid-laugh and sets her drink down, her back going stiff.
I step between her and Phil. “Let’s talk,” I say, nodding toward the sliding glass door. “Outside.”
Phil glares at me. “I’ve got some things to say—”
“And you can say them to me,” I cut in smoothly, keeping my voice low and level. “Not in front of the kids.”
He hesitates,
