“Honey, he’s almost a man. I’m sure he’s doing manly things.”
“We’ll talk about what constitutes manly things another night. Tonight, I need to know my son is all right.”
Willis shuffles upstairs. “Our son, and he’s fine.”
Thunder implodes the still of the night and unleashes a fury of discontentment. Sounds like a thousand basketballs bouncing on the roof.
Basketball.
Willis Jr. went out with his team after their victory several hours ago. He should’ve been home by now.
No calls, no texts. No responses to my calls or texts.
Two hours later, still nothing. Something’s not right.
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