“That doesn’t have anything to do with it,” Constance said dismissively and Henry felt, rather than saw, Tommy’s softly humming anger at the response. Inwardly, he sighed. The lines, the sides, they were always drawn. “I’m telling you. There’s no other explanation.”

“Please.” Val snorted.

She feigned ignorance and set her mug on the counter behind her. “You have something to say, Val, maybe you should say it.”

Instead, her coffee cup slid across the counter on its own accord, slowly and in a perfectly straight line and directly into Val’s waiting hand. He picked it up and arched an eyebrow, sipping it calmly. “No, maybe you should. For a change.”