anything.”
“I don’t expect you to want me in the house,” Travis said.
“I am not going to throw you out to make myself feel better,” I said. “And I am not going to let you hide from what you did.”
“Brenda,” Travis said.
“You are coming home,” I said. “You are going to sit at the table with us every morning and look her in the eye.”
Travis shifted his jaw and looked down at the dark gravel.
“Get in the truck,” I said.
The living room was quiet when we opened the back door at half past nine.
Mason was sitting on the carpet in his flannel pajamas, building a tall tower out of yellow plastic blocks.
Kaylee walked straight to the kitchen sink, took a clean jelly jar from the cupboard, and filled it with cold tap water.
She brought the glass into the living room and
