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“That’s why I called you.”

I frowned. “Because I said your name?”

“Because you can hear when something’s wrong.”

I heard movement. “Where are you?”

“Car.”

“Driving?”

“I’m parked.”

“Where?”

“Outside my house.”

I went still. His house with Ravenna. The boundary I had successfully avoided thinking about while we traded paint opinions and stupid memes.

“Caleb.”

“I know.”

“Go inside.”

“I will.”

“Then go.”

He exhaled. “It’s been a bad day.”

I closed my eyes. “Then talk to your wife about it.”

The phone was quiet.

“That was fucked up,” I said.

“What?”

“Calling me.”

His voice dropped. “I know.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

“Because I didn’t want to go inside yet.”

I sat up straighter. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It does.”

“No. It doesn’t.”

He sighed. “She had an appointment today.”

I was getting irritated. “What kind?”

“Therapy, and it didn’t go well.”