“Why were you mad at him?” John’s lip curled before he turned away. “I wasn’t mad at him.” She followed him to the fireplace, where he tossed another log on the already roaring blaze. “Why were you scowling at him like that then? You looked like you were going to rip his head off.” John stared into the fire and didn’t respond right away. “It was nothing. Just stuff. Don’t worry about it.” Shannon.”
