Mike’s truck. Luke sat between us on the bench seat, just as he had as a child.
He’d called Ben from the kitchen. He’d said, Get your mom. We’re coming over. All of us. TrackPregnancy
Dana lived in a small Brookside bungalow with a porch and a potted lemon tree. She waited on the porch as we arrived. Still wearing her work scrubs. Gray had begun threading her red hair at the temples.
Ben waited beside her.
He looked gaunt and pale, with shadows beneath his eyes. His expression crumpled
