24
MADELINE
Peter had played the perfect contrite spirit that would have at one time made both of our hearts sing out the desire to praise him for being such a good boy.
My stomach churned on the edge of hurling. I couldn’t even stand the sweet scent of the brownies I’d baked for him. I’d done so because the chocolate in the air would get him into the house less on edge than Hudson and I had both expected. We’d agreed to keep things quiet. Allow him his say before shutting him down.
But something about Peter’s shining eyes, the wildness of his expression regardless of his put together outfit and styled hair raised the hairs on my nape. He wasn’t sober. He also wasn’t stable.
I’d put both of our cell phones in the dining room like we’d discussed, but there was no way Peter would be lea
