“People are mad,” he whispered, as if that explained everything.
“People are always mad,” Mark said from the armchair, surprising us all. He’d been sitting quietly, observing, thinking. “Sometimes they’re just looking for a target.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and looked directly at Lucas. “You hungry?”
Lucas froze, like it was a trick question.
Mark nodded toward the kitchen. “Because there’s a whole pumpkin pie in there. And it’s a shame to let good pie go to waste.”
Lucas swallowed, his throat working. “I don’t want to take—”
Mark cut him off, his voice calm but blunt. “It’s already made. The only question is whether we eat it or throw it away.”
A flicker of something—disbelief, maybe even hope—crossed Lucas’s face. Then he whispered, “Pie would be nice.”
Emma let out a breath she’d been holding for hours.
