Amelia hated quiet. Always had. Quiet was something that wasn't right, something lurking just out of sight. When she was an adult, it most frequently meant her father fumed about bills, chores, and callers on the porch who were not exactly welcome. Quiet was a warning signal.

Quiet was different in Alexander Carter's world. It was not crumpled or tense. It was measured. Measured. Like a room constructed to strangle you without leaving a bruise.

And she couldn't stand that this ...