I was going to meet whatever came through my door tonight leaning back.

I had spent two years meeting every family storm leaning forward, braced, apologizing before the first word landed.

Whatever came through the door tonight was going to find me in a different posture, and the posture was the whole of the change.

Chapter 12 — Where the Hell Were You

At twenty to ten the front door came open hard enough that the handle knocked a dent into the drywall behind it, and Derek came into the living room blotchy and bright red, his tie dragged loose, his eyes doing the particular wild dance of a man who has just been humiliated in front of the people whose opinion he values most.

Where the hell were you, he shouted, his voice too big for the room.