Ethan texted twice during the day. Work stuff. Miss you. Be good. I answered both with the same careful smile I always used in messages, then threw the phone face-down on the bed like it burned. The house felt different after last night. Bigger. Quieter. Every sound the rain made against the windows sounded like footsteps that weren’t coming.Why wouldn't Ethan respond to my many questions on why his father is he? Even worse, why didn't Ethan tell me that his hot infuriating daddy was going to drop by?

By ten the storm had settled into a steady drizzle. I was in the kitchen again, same shirt, hair still damp...