Seeing that mug in his hands nearly made me drop the frying pan.
“Morning, beautiful,” he said.
“Morning.”
He studied my face.
“You look tired.”
“Sophie had a nightmare.”
His eyes shifted toward her.
“What about?”
She froze.
I answered immediately.
“The storm.”
Miles sighed.
“Still?”
“She’s eleven.
She’s curious.”
He placed his mug down.
“Those memories aren’t healthy for her, Emily.
You really shouldn’t encourage them.”
I forced a smile.
“I’ll handle my daughter.”
Something flickered across his face.
It disappeared almost immediately.
“Of course.”
After breakfast, Miles left for work.
I waited until his car disappeared before telling Sophie to stay home from school.
Then I called Hannah.
At twenty-three, my oldest daughter had become a financial analyst in Denver.
She answered on the second ring.
“Mom?
Everything okay?”
“I need you to come home.”
Her voice changed.
“What happened?”
I hesitated.
Then I said something I hadn’t said in years.
