Chapter One

The Way He Looks at Me

I stood in the doorway of the living room longer than I should have.

The only light came from the streetlamp outside, thin and pale, cutting across the floor in a long rectangle that stopped just short of the couch. Noah was stretched out on it the way he always did when he came home late one arm flung over his head, the other hanging off the edge, fingers loose and open. His shoes were still on. One of them had half-fallen off, the heel dangling. His shirt had ridden up a little, showing a strip of stomach and the dark trail...