ELIZA POV
The peach and blackberry cobbler that dad set on the table lacked the color and aroma that normally excites me since I was a kid.
He spooned out a decent portion from the glass baking dish and set the piece on the plate in front of me before he did the same for himself and mom, and drew a chair closer to me. He barely does that, but when he does, it has to be some soul-shattering news he's dreading to tell. He reacted the same way when Rowen and Octavia's father died. He grabbed my left hand on the table, just like he did right now, and looked into my eyes the same way with so much apology, that had me wondering how they all fit in there.
"How are you doing? Tell me about your day?" He asked now, bringing a little ease to the tense air in the room.
The last time we were in
