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I looked down at the tablecloth. “I don’t know.”

It was the only honest answer I had.

Mom came closer. “Are you angry?”

“Yes.”

“Hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Do you believe she intended to harm us?”

“No.”

“You still trust her.”

“No. Maybe. I really don’t know.”

“But you believe her motive was not hostile.” She squeezed my shoulder. “We need to review what she knows.”

“I know.”

“Karen is already pushing to involve the council.”

“That would be a mistake,” I said.

“It may become necessary.” Mom studied me. “She’s human and knows about us. The council will consider that significant.”

“She learned by accident.”

“She maintained the deception for months.”

I sighed. “She was probably afraid to tell the truth.” I heard myself defending Sloane and hated how natural it felt.

Mom’s features softened. “Fear explains a great deal,” she said. “It doesn’t remove consequences.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

I pulled the wet tablecloth through my hands and shook it out. “I don’t fucking know anything anymore.”

Mom nodded. “We won’t decide anything tonight.”

“I’m not planning to.”

“Good.” She hugged me briefly. I stood there with both arms at my sides for several seconds before returning it.

The numbness lasted until I got home. Then it broke.

Though I usually used the outside entrance, that night, I came through the main house. It seemed quieter than usual. Mom had taken Caldwell upstairs to settle him. Julie had stayed with him because he refused to sleep alone. From the kitchen, I heard Trevor talking to Jason in a low murmur.

Nobody called to me. They knew I couldn’t discuss it yet.

I walked to my apartment and closed the door.

Sloane was everywhere. A hair tie around the kitchen faucet. A coffee mug she liked because it held more liquid than the others. A paperback on the arm of the couch.