NEVA POV
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The Mallen compound kitchen was, at this point, the room where the worst things happened.
Not because it was unlucky — I don't believe in unlucky rooms, I believe in what people bring into them — but because it was the room where I'd delivered the pregnancy news, where Mitch had delivered the Hew news, where every revelation of the last several days had landed while the kettle cooled on the counter and someone forgot to drink the tea.
Now it had Holt Mallen in it.
He sat at the table with the posture of a man who'd decided, before arriving, exactly which chair he would take and had simply waited until the correct one became available. He'd chosen the one with the best view of the door. I noticed this the way I noticed everything lately — automatically, filed without annou
