“We were going through some old storage,” Sophie said.

She shifted where she stood by the refrigerator and checked the clock on her phone again.

Dean’s hand paused in the grocery bag for half a second.

“There’s nothing in that attic but junk and old cobwebs,” Dean said.

“You should let me haul those boxes out to the burn pile this weekend.”

“We’re taking our time going through them,” I said.

Dean came around the kitchen island and patted my shoulder twice with his heavy hand.