Footsteps pounded from the kitchen, a frantic echo that pulled me from the haze of my shock just enough to register the concern etching their voices.

Allison was first, his broad frame filling the doorway as he skidded to a halt, his dish towel still clutched in one hand like a forgotten flag of surrender.

His eyes widened at the sight of me slumped against the wall, the crimson dress rumpled around my legs, my face pale and streaked with the first hot trails of tears.

“Angie! What the hell happened?” He dropped to one knee beside me, his hand hovering uncertainly over my shoulder, as if afraid I might...