Adam hoisted the carry-on over the threshold of the front door and dragged it behind him as he walked toward the kitchen. As he came around the corner, he spied the signs right away—the canvas backpack, the baseball cap, and the water bottle tossed on the counter.
Adam turned to the sound of the voice. Jason was walking in from the den, hands in his pockets, his eyes casting a glance downward as Adam rolled his foot to ease the cramp from the flight.
“Yeah,” said Adam, stepping forward stiffly at first. Then he relaxed, smiled, and wrapped his arms around his son, thumping the back of Jason’s shoulders with his open ...