"So the broken boy returns?" Unblinking, unsmiling, the same strict air of dominance that often cloaked Deacon surrounded his mother.

She was the bird and I was the prey. All-seeing, her eyes drew from me my every silent thought; it could have been paranoia, but something about the way that she was looking at me made it clear that she knew what had just happened between me and her son in the car.

It made me feel as though she knew of how my lips still tingled, brought to life beneath the fleeting touch of another. It made me feel that she knew of the way my heart was in...