Her mother’s car pulled into the driveway at 9:51.

Chloe was in the shower trying to scrub the smell of sex off her skin when she heard the garage door. Panic cut through her. She shut off the water, dried off too fast, and pulled on clean clothes with shaking hands. Down the hall she could hear Nathan moving in his own room — a drawer closing, the soft sound of a shirt being pulled on.

By the time she came downstairs her mother was already in the kitchen setting her bag on the counter.

“Meeting wrapped up early,” she said, smiling, tired. “I drove straight through. You two survive...