Daniel held him carefully by the forearms and spoke in a slow, steady voice.
“You’re at home, son. That’s your mother. Look at her. You’re safe.”
Evelyn remained frozen in the doorway.
Marks from medical electrodes covered Noah’s chest.
A bandage circled his left wrist.
This was not what she had first imagined.
But none of it was normal.
“What the hell is happening?” Evelyn demanded. “Who do those shoes belong to? Why is Noah sleeping in your bed? What have you both been hiding from me?”
Daniel put on a robe and pulled the blanket around Noah. The young man was shaking and sweating, repeating the same words so softly they were barely audible.
“Don’t shut the door… don’t shut the door…”
Evelyn stepped closer.
Noah recoiled.
That movement wounded her more deeply than any affair could have.
For nineteen years, she had always been the person who could calm him.
