June held both hands out to him. “Look. I got burned too. Your wife’s at a hundred and four, and she’s hitting her own mother-in-law.”
I pulled my collar down where Derek could see it. From above my collarbone to the base of my neck, one big red patch, the edges already turning dark.
“Look,” I said.
Derek’s eyes landed on my neck.
Stopped for a second.
Then he looked away.
He didn’t ask if it hurt.
He glanced at June first. His lips moved. “Why wasn’t she more careful?”
That sentence hurt worse than the chili water going down my throat. I dug my nails into my palm so I wouldn’t cry.
“Where’s Sophie?” Derek asked.
Sophie. My three-year-old. She peeked out from behind the bedroom door, half her face showing.
June’s whole face went soft, just like that. She crouched down with her arms open. “Sophie, sweetheart. Come to Grandma.”
