“I was gone two years.”
Megan’s hand found his chest, not a welcome. A block.
“Not in the doorway.”
He did not stop moving. His eyes stayed on Darren, then on her, then on the belly under the cream knit, and the hallway kept being a hallway, fireplace to the right, sofa to the left, kitchen light behind a man who should not have had a glass in this house.