“What about your mother?”

“I changed our house locks this morning,” Ethan said, pointing to the entry table where two shiny new silver keys lay next to his wallet.

“If she comes here, she knocks on the door like any other visitor.

And if she complains about how we run our home, I’ll tell her to leave.”

I stood up from the chair and looked at him.

His shirt was wrinkled from the night in the ER waiting room, but he held his chin firm.