That movement wounded her more deeply than any affair could have.
For nineteen years, she had always been the person who could calm him.
Now he looked at her as though she were a stranger.
“Tell me everything,” she ordered.
Daniel walked into the hallway.
He picked up the burgundy shoe and held it with care.
“They belonged to Rebecca.”
Evelyn felt the floor move beneath her feet.
Rebecca—her younger sister—had p.a.s.s.e.d away five years earlier in a crash on Interstate 55.
Evelyn had never been able to say her name without being consumed by guilt.
She had canceled the trip at the last minute, leaving Rebecca to drive fourteen-year-old Noah to his tournament.
Noah survived.
Rebecca did not.
“Those shoes were stored in my mother’s basement,” Evelyn said. “Why did you bring them here?”
Daniel lowered his gaze.
