Chapter 4

The front door slammed behind Ryan with such force that the framed photos on the wall trembled. Jake flinched beside me, his small body pressed against mine on the couch, his broken arm cradled in its fresh blue cast.

"Is he mad at us, Auntie Isa?" Jake whispered, his voice small and uncertain.

I pulled him closer, careful not to jostle his injury. "No, sweetheart. He's just..." What could I say? That Ryan was throwing a tantrum because I'd dared to stand up to him at the hospital? That his precious Chloe's feelings mattered more than a child's broken bones?