“I know you did,” I said, resting my head on his shoulder.

He looked out at the tree line. “If that was normal, I don’t want any part of it.”

Chapter 6 — The Boundary Line

Three months later, the breach came.

It was a Sunday afternoon. Mia was building a fort out of sofa cushions in the living room. Daniel was at the stove making grilled cheese. Then a car door thudded outside, and a sharp knock hit the frosted glass of the front door.

Patricia looked immaculate, dressed for a gala rather than an ambush — cream blouse, pearl drops, lipstick the color of a scalpel. She’d brought no peace offering.

She’d brought only her own assumed authority, which she believed could push through any boundary.