“Oh, good. I was worried charm had entered the building.”
Dex glanced at the plastic grocery bag near the porch door. “Yours?”
Crystal nodded. “There’s water. Peanut butter crackers. Apples. I think a sandwich from yesterday.”
“Eat the crackers,” Dex said. “Leave the sandwich.”
“Was that professional advice?”
“That sandwich has been alone with fear and summer heat. I don’t trust it.”
A laugh got out of me before I could stop it.
Crystal heard it, and her expression changed like she’d caught something fragile in her hands.
I turned away first.
Dex moved to the grocery bag slowly, giving both of us the chance to object. When neither of us did, he brought the crackers and a water bottle to the table. He set them near Crystal, then stepped back.
Crystal opened the crackers with fingers that didn’t quite work. The plastic tore wrong. Crumbs spilled across the table.
I reached for the package.
“So help me,” Crystal said, “if you tell me I’m doing crackers wrong, I’ll scream.”
I stopped with my hand in the air.
Dex’s attention shifted to the window.
“What?” I snapped.
“I’m learning family dynamics.”
“You’re learning nothing.”
“I’ve learned both of you threaten violence when embarrassed.”
Crystal ate one cracker. “That’s accurate.”
I pointed at her. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I’m on your side, and I’m underfed.”
Dex leaned back against the counter, arms folded, the morning light cutting over his dark hair and the stubble along his jaw. He was too large for the faded cabin kitchen, too solid for the kind of trouble that had lived in my head as charges, fake invoices, and men with keys to places they shouldn’t enter.
The cuffs stayed on the table.
Crystal ate two more crackers and drank half the water. Color came back to her face in a thin wash.
Dex waited until the bottle touched the table again. “Who gets the records if we move them?”
“My attorney,” Crystal said.
“Can you reach her?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
