Jeremy Anderson’s POV
Pulling into the long, curved drive, I cut the engine, my childhood home looming ahead of us, all stone and dark timber, built solid and stubborn like the people who live inside it. Not ostentatious, not obscene with wealth, but unmistakably expensive. Wide front steps, tall windows trimmed in black, a roofline that slopes like it’s learned to weather storms without complaint. The kind of house that keeps its secrets well.
Daniel is still asleep, so I give Claire a little pep-talk on what to expect from my mother, and she has a stricken expression. I want to kiss her so badly, to wipe her worries away… Taking a deep inhale, I release her hand, and she shyly looks away to her side of the window, but I see the blush she’s trying to contain in the glass's reflection.
