MACEY 

I was halfway down the stairs, still rubbing the sleep from my eyes, when I heard laughter drifting up from the living room. My parents’ laughter—loud, full, familiar—and another voice I didn’t recognize. A man’s voice. Deep, easy, confident. 

That was new. 

I frowned, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was barely past eleven. My parents never had guests this early unless it was family or one of Dad’s old business friends—the kind who talked about stocks, golf, and ...