“She lent it to Mallory.”
I faced my sister.
“You told me Natalie was too tired to do anything, but you took her car?”
“She wasn’t using it.”
In the kitchen, only water, leftover takeout, and a nearly empty milk carton remained. Our stocked groceries were gone.
“Where’s the food I bought for Natalie?”
Beverly followed me.
“We’ve been managing the household, Wesley. Don’t come home and start criticizing everything.”
I didn’t waste time arguing about the fridge. I walked down the hallway, increasingly frightened by how little anyone had told me about my own wife and child.
What I Found Behind the Closed Door
Behind its closed door, our bedroom was dim and colder than the other rooms.
Natalie perched on the bed, holding Miles close. Her gray cardigan was the same one she’d worn when I left; her hair was tangled, her face pale with fatigue. A partly emptied water bottle stood nearby.
