Nicole tells John about the Call with Daniel

The front door clicked shut, sealing Nicole inside. John sprawled across the velvet sofa, a remote gripped in his hand like a weapon. He didn't look up from the television.

"I'm home," Nicole murmured, dropping her bag on the entryway table.

"How was work?" John asked, his voice a flat drone.

Nicole leaned against the wall, her heart hammering against her ribs. The memory of Jefferson's predatory gaze still clung to her skin like a film.

"Daniel called me today," she said.

The clicking of the remote stopped abruptly. John turned his head slowly, his eyes narrowing into slits.

"The prodigal brother returns. What does he want now?"

"He's out of work. He needs a place to stay for a while."

John let out a sharp, jagged laugh. He sat up, the sofa springs groaning under his sudden movement.

"A place to stay? In this house? We can barely afford the mortgage on your salary alone, Nicole. I'm not spending my days staring at his failure."

"It's only for a few weeks. Maybe he could help you get a Job. He's family, John."

"He's a nuisance," John snapped. "I'm not playing host to a twenty-five-year-old loser who can't keep a job. Tell him to find a motel or a bridge to sleep under."

Nicole looked away, the secret of her and Daniel's shared past pulsing in her mind. The fear of Jefferson's photos collided with a sudden, visceral need to protect her brother.

"I already told him he could come," she whispered.

John stood up, his shadow stretching across the hardwood floor, looming over her.

"You did what?"

"He's coming here, John."

"Fine," John spat, his face hardening. "But if he expects a handout, he's barking up the wrong tree."