Forks pause halfway to mouths.Coffee cups freeze.
Everyone in this place knows who I am.
And they know what I’m capable of.
Mike looks up slowly.
The guy looks like hell.
But that doesn’t earn him any sympathy from me.
Kelly says my name softly.
“J.T.”
I glance at her.
Just once.
And I see it instantly—the way her shoulders drop a fraction, the way the tension leaks out of her like air from a balloon.
Relief.
And that look does something violent to my chest.
That’s right, Honey.
I’m here.
But I don’t say it.Not yet.
Because my attention snaps right back to the little weasel sitting across the table from her.
Mike tries to square his shoulders.
Fails.
“Look,” he says, lifting his hands like he’s the reasonable one here.“I’m just talking to my wife.”
“Your ex-wife.You left, and she’s moved on.Kelly is damn well rid of you.”
I take a slow step forward.
Then another.
The man instinctively backs up—but there is nowhere to go in the chair he’s sitting in.He almost tips it over.
Good.
“I-we were just discussing Evan.He’s my son!”Mike says, grasping at straws.
But it is enough to make me pause.He’s right.
Mike is Evan’s father.So, maybe I won’t kill him.Yet.
“You about done talking yet?”I ask.
“Kelly?Are you gonna let him talk to me like that?”Mike asks.
