The Knocking Started Right After She Told Me He Was Mine

Door

The knocking came again.

Harder.

Not knuckles now. The flat slam of a palm.

“Emily. Open up.”

A man’s voice.

Rough. Tired. Angry in that low, controlled way that’s worse than yelling.

My head snapped toward the door. “Who is that?”

She didn’t answer.

That told me enough.

Noah started fussing, his tiny face folding up before the cry came out. Emily bounced continue reading …