The door opened a crack, and the cold draft from the hallway rushed in. The warm scent of home cooking, the savory aroma of braised meat and vegetables that had filled the apartment just moments ago, was suddenly tempered by the cool, dry air of the corridor.Evan stood outside, his fingers tightening around the file folder. The paper was crisp and new, but the contents inside were old, seven years old, to be exact. His gaze traveled past Avery's shoulder, landing on the figure at the dining table.Dominic sat there, his shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows, one hand resting on the table. He had just reached over to hand Dorothea her small water cup, his long fingers wrapped around the plastic handle with surprising gentleness. He was completely at ease, as if he had been sitting at that table for years, as if he belonged there. The warm light from the kitchen caught the edges of his profile, softening the hard lines that usually defined him.Dominic turned his hea
Read more