“Tell ‘em you’re busy,” he whispered seductively into her ear. “Tell ‘em your husband is unbuttoning your shirt as you speak—”

He heard a muffled voice on the other end of the line, but was more interested in exploring the tantalizing contours beneath Elle’s clothes. She wriggled deliciously and made a very half-hearted effort to swat away his wandering hands while he nibbled on her ear. She turned her moist, enticing lips away from the phone.

“Ford, stop it—come on—!”

Not a chance, he thought.

The muffled voice spoke again. All at once, her frolicsome manner evaporated. She stopped responding to his caresses and gave her full attention to the phone instead. Barely suppressed giggles were cut off abruptly. Her expression darkened and Ford knew at once that playtime was over. He listened intently, frowning.

“No, this is Mrs. Brody,” she replied to the unknown caller. “Yes, he’s my husband. Hold on a moment.”

She covered the phone and turned slowly toward Ford, who braced himself in anticipation. Judging from Elle’s reaction, he knew he wasn’t going to like this.

“What?” he asked.

“It’s the consulate,” she said tersely. “Joe… he’s been arrested in Japan.”

Ford felt like he had just been sucker-punched. Whatever trace of his amorous mood had remained dissolved completely, consumed by an all-too-familiar mixture of resentment and gloom. He should’ve known that the call was about his father—and his never-ending obsessions.

Jesus Christ, Dad, he thought. What have you done this time?

Ford slumped in a kitchen chair, already exhausted at the prospect of having to deal with his dad again. It never ended, year after year, all the way back to terrible day fifteen years ago, when Ford had watched the nuclear power plant vanish from sight, taking his mother with it. Joe Brody had begun to melt down that day as well, and his son was still dealing with the emotional fallout, all these years later.

“Ford?”

Elle held out the phone. He lifted his head to meet her worried gaze. He had no idea whether he could handle this again. He stared at the phone as though it was a ticking time bomb, about to blow up in his face… one more time. What the hell was he supposed to do?

“He’s your father,” she reminded him.

* * *

Ford rummaged unhappily through a bedroom dresser, searching for a clean pair of socks. His duffel bag rested on the bed nearby. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He hadn’t even unpacked yet and here he was packing to leave again. He pulled open another drawer, unable to find what he was looking for. He didn’t even know where anything was anymore.

“Why was he trespassing in the quarantine zone?” Elle leaned against the wall, watching him pack. She nodded at the dresser. “No, the other drawer.”