“Lucas,” he said.

“I, I didn’t know, I”

I moved before he finished, and I planted my hand flat against his chest and pushed him back, away from my son, toward the door.

“Do not,” I said, “touch him.” And I meant it with a finality that stopped him cold.

From the bed, in a voice that was small and yet somehow held the whole weight of the night in it, Lucas said the thing that I think will haunt Arthur Vance, if he is capable of being haunted, for the rest of his life.

He said, “You didn’t even ask me, Grandpa.