Chapter 1
Connor’s POV
I sat at the long oak dining table in our house, the one Mom polished once a year for big family dinners, stabbing at the roast chicken on my plate with my fork while trying my hardest not to stare straight across at Mrs. Harper.
She was Mom’s best friend from their college days, staying the whole weekend with her daughter Riley who was the same age as me, nineteen, and planted right next to me scrolling through her phone and laughing at some dumb video.
The table was piled high with food, steaming mashed potatoes, buttery green beans, fresh baked rolls, gravy thick enough to coat a spoon, and everyone was talking over each other the way they always did at these things.
Dad at the head of the table telling his same old golf stories, Mom passing bowls and refil
