(Sean's POV)
Wednesday's handoff goes easy.
Rebecca's at the door when I drop Jack off, laughing at something he's telling her about a kid at school who ate a crayon on a dare, and I make some dry comment about the crayon color being a design flaw, not a dare, and she laughs.
Actually laughs. Head tipping back slightly, thirty seconds of something loose and unguarded that I haven't heard directed at me in longer than I can measure.
I drive home with the windows down and something small and green sitting in my chest, sprouting where it has no business sprouting.
I recognize it immediately for what it is. That's the problem. I've gotten good at recognizing things too late to matter and this one I catch early, catch it green and small and already reaching toward light it has no right to
