Chapter 16: Chapter 16

He usually woke up in a cold sweat from those dreams.

It was hard to pretend he wasn’t terrified, but somehow harder still to imagine actually telling Dad how he felt. He was so afraid Dad would be disappointed in him.

Dad did this thing when he was stressed out where he went into the kitchen and cooked and cooked and cooked. And Wyatt helped out, because that’s what he’d always done, and because being beside Dad in the kitchen was the most natural thing in the world. And, because Dad was suddenly taking all these phone calls, someone had to make sure the béchamel sauce didn’t burn, right? Wyatt had been Dad’s sous-chef before he even knew what the word meant.

It was Monday afternoon and Wyatt was wondering if they’d even got room in the oven for this third tray of lasagna—”Three, Dad? Really?”—when the doorbell sounded. Neither Wyatt nor Dad moved, but there was a sudden flurry of barking and claws clicking on the floor, and a moment later Lettie peered into the kitchen.