Not when the anger over her father’s actions and behavior flooded her veins and she had to stay strong, at least until her mother was okay.
Devon entered the kitchen, where Dara and the others stood quietly talking. They all looked at her when she walked in, and Devon waited for someone to speak.
“She’s asleep?” Logan asked.
Devon nodded.
“Wine?” Dara asked, holding up the bottle.
“Make it a double,” Devon said dryly. She crossed to the island and pulled out a stool to seat herself. She glanced around the large kitchen but didn’t see Michael or Oz.
“He’s gone,” Dara stated knowingly, her gaze direct.
Like it or not, Devon felt herself relax a bit.
“So,” Logan said, downing the last of the scotch in his glass. “Do we talk about what happened or avoid it for the awkwardness that it is?”