Chapter 7
Glass still scattered across tile. Daniel hand rested light on my back. Sliding doors open. Backyard air pushed in. Grill smoke hung thick. Heat pressed through screen.
Sister stood at threshold. She'd pulled patio doors wide earlier. Now she moved fast. She gathered children. Two boys near grill, one girl clutching paper plate. Sister bent low. Whispered close to their ears. Hands guided shoulders. Turned them toward side gate, then back toward kitchen doorway. Not backyard. Inside. Away from broken bowl.
I watched her. My heels stuck slightly to rug where salad had seeped. Daniel hadn't moved from island edge. His watch caught light. Black phone still in right hand. Screen dark now. Ethan lingered near counter. Khaki pants had smear of potato salad near hem. He stared at floor, then at doors.
Older guests clustered near grill. Two women, one man in faded polo. Whispers started. Not loud. Low murmur under smoke. One woman glanced at me, then away. Man turned tongs over, smoke rose and curled. No one ate. Children filed past me single file. Sister nodded at me as they passed. Her mouth tight. She mouthed, you okay? I gave small nod. Couldn't speak yet.
Sister stopped last girl. Brushed hair from her face. "Inside, honey. Go wash hands," she said. Girl obeyed. Sister then stepped to grill area. Spoke quiet to whispering guests. "Give them minute," she said. Guests nodded. Grill smoke kept rising. Fire still going. No one tended it right.
My throat dry. Daniel hadn't looked outside. He watched Ethan. I felt weight of backyard eyes on us. Pretending not to watch. Failing.
I stepped forward. One step toward doors. Tile cold under nude heels. Daniel hand slipped from my back. He let me go. Sister looked at me. Expectant.
I cleared throat. Voice came small then steadier.
"No one was harmed," I said. Words scraped. "Bowl broke. That's all. We need space for minute. Please stay by grill. We'll be out soon."
Short sentences. Quiet. Guests heard. Two women nodded quickly. Man at grill lifted hand, stayed put. Sister exhaled. She stepped back, created buffer. She pulled doors slightly closed, left gap for air. Smoke still drifted in.
Silence held. Then Ethan moved.
He used pause. Shifted weight. Reached to pocket of khaki pants. Pulled own phone. Not Daniel's black phone. His own, silver case. He didn't look at Daniel. He looked at doors.
"I need air," he muttered. Not loud. Directed at no one.
Daniel eyes narrowed. He didn't block. He watched. I watched too. Ethan slid past me. Shoulder nearly brushed doorframe. He stepped over threshold. Onto patio concrete. Then beyond grill, toward side yard where fence cast shadow.
He turned back once. Face no longer smug. Pale. Jaw tight. He thumbed phone. Screen lit. He raised to ear.
Daniel started to follow. I touched his arm. Light touch. Wrist watch cool.
"Let him go," I whispered. Daniel stopped. Muscle in forearm tensed under tattoos. He stayed at doorway. We both watched.
Ethan walked past grill smoke. Guests parted without being asked. Sister tracked him. Ethan reached far corner, near trash cans and fence. Turned away from us. Shoulders hunched. Phone pressed hard to ear. He spoke. Too far to hear words. One hand gestured sharp, then paused. Head bowed. Then hand raked through blond hair.
Wind carried only fragments. Not words. Tone urgent, low.
May you like
Grill smoke kept rising. Children gone inside. Whispers stopped. Backyard quiet except smoke crackle and distant traffic on county road. Daniel phone still in hand, dark. Ethan's call continued. His back to us. Alone near fence.
I stood at doors. Space we'd asked for felt thinner now. Threat no longer in kitchen. Outside, on phone, reaching beyond barbecue.
