Nathan stood up and walked to the window, parting the plastic blinds by an inch.

I stood up too, looking over his shoulder.

Down in the gravel parking lot, headlights sliced through the rain, pointing directly at our door.

The rain smeared the yellow headlights into long, blurry streaks across the wet asphalt.

“She’s just showing us she can,” Nathan said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register.

He didn’t pull away from the window.

His hand remained flat against the cheap faux-wood paneling next to the glass.

“Evelyn,” Nathan said into the speakerphone, “you’re trespassing.”

A light, dry chuckle came through the small speaker of the phone.

“It’s a public parking lot, Nathan,” Evelyn said.

“And I am merely keeping an eye on my granddaughter’s welfare.”

“Rosie is asleep,” I said, my voice shaking as I stepped closer to the phone.

“She is safe, and she is warm, which is more than she ever was around Grant.”

There was a brief pause on the line, the sound of windshield wipers scraping in the background of Evelyn’s car.

“Emily, dear,” Evelyn said, her tone dripping with false pity.