Mara's gaze flicked toward Stefan again. The clatter of cutlery and muted hum of conversation around the table faded to a low, unimportant drone. She watched as her brother pushed peas across his plate, the way his shoulders hunched like he was carrying something he hadn't figured out how to set down yet.
"I know Steve's got something eating at him he's too damn stubborn to talk about," Mara began, her voice cool and laced with that sisterly authority that always made the room hush. "But what's your problem, Stefan?"
The words cut through the air like a stone thrown into still water. The conversation died. Chairs shifted. Even the soft tick of the wall clock seemed louder in the pause that followed.
All eyes landed on Stefan.
Stanley arched a brow. Stanford's mouth quirked into a grin like he was waiting for a confession about a parking ticket or an embarrassing mishap at work. Steve didn't even pretend to be subtle, leaning forward, his interest suddenly piqued.
