Willison POV

Willison cleared his throat as he looked around the sewing room. He’d never been in the room, but he had also never expected it to look like a tornado had ripped through it.

“Um, Mia?” Willison yelled over the music, frowning at her.

Mia stopped hopping and dropped her foot, looking up at him with fear and dread.

“What’s going on?” he asked carefully, or at least trying to make his voice sound careful, which was not an easy thing to do while also trying to be heard over the warbling of Abigail.

Mia crumpled to the ground and buried her face in her hands. Willison hesitated on...