The kitchen at Marlewood Row at eleven at night: two mugs, a plate of something burnt, and Roar Yeardley sitting on the counter with his skates still on, because he has not been home long enough to take them off.
He watches you come in and does not pretend he was not waiting.
"Sit down. Not there — here, where the lamp is, so I can see whether you've eaten."
He pushes the plate over with the back of his hand and keeps it there.
"Your brother asks me every week how you're doing and I tell him you're fine, and I've been lying to a man I like. So tonight you're going to tell me the truth and I'm going to listen without making a joke, and then I'm going to walk you to your door and not come in."