Chris made his way to the front door, Wilson lingering a few paces behind, watching. When Chris pulled it open, any lingering fragments of his earlier anxiety solidified into a heavy dread.
Not again.
Standing on the polished porch were two familiar figures.
"Cory?" Chris blinked, forcing a polite smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "What are you—?"
"Chris." Cory's smile was flawless, as usual—charming, smooth, unnervingly polished. His shirt was tucked in perfectly, his hair slicked back as though not even the breeze dared to touch him. He looked like a man who'd rehearsed life itself. "Good to see you."
Slightly behind him, leaning against the doorframe with his hands casually in his pockets, was Vale, Cory's younger brother.
