Elena’s pov

The front door clicked shut just after six and the house went quiet in that heavy way it always did when David left for one of his trips. I stood in the kitchen barefoot in the thin tank top I slept in, the hem barely covering the tops of my thighs, and listened to the car pull out of the driveway. Fifteen minutes later the coffee was still dripping and my phone lit up on the counter.

Marcus.

I wiped my hands on a dish towel and unlocked the screen. One message. No greeting. No emoji. Just those five words sitting there like they already knew the answer....