I glance back out to the porch. Brittany is still sitting there, shoulders stiff, hands clenched in her lap. Her eyes are wide and unblinking as she stares at Aunt Layla. My chest aches with the urge to go to her, to sweep her away from words that are cutting into her flesh right now. But she’s okay for the moment. She’s breathing. And I know she needs to hear this. So instead, I turn away and slip down the hall to check on Theodore before she falls apart completely.

He’s ...