Lucy’s pov

We drove back to the old house in near silence. My mother sat up front beside him like she had already forgotten I existed, one hand resting on his thigh like it belonged there.

I stayed in the back seat staring out the window and trying not to look at the way his big hand covered hers.

The only sounds were the engine and the soft slide of her fingers against the fabric of his pants. My jaw ached from clenching it so hard.

Packing the remaining boxes took under an hour because none of us wanted to stay in that place any longer than we had to....