cold.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. My brother’s waiting. He’s not well, and I’m his caregiver.”
“Only caregiver?”
A tired smile. “After our mom passed, it’s been just me. Goodnight, sir.”
She went back down the steps through the rain. He watched from the window. She got into a rusted Mustang parked under the streetlamp, turned the key.
Nothing.
She tried again. Nothing.
Her forehead dropped to the steering wheel, and when her shoulders started moving, he understood he was not watching a rough night. He was watching what a hard life looks like from the outside.
He grabbed his jacket and his keys. He was halfway down the front walk when the engine rattled awake. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, reversed too fast, and was gone into the rain before he reached the end of the driveway.
He stood there with cold takeout
