Traci went straight toward the new piece of furniture that stood in its stead and looked at it as if it were an intruder. If she tried hard, she could visualize the old one—a honey-colored triplechested bureau that gave the room a crammed, homey quality. Coupled with her double bed, it had turned the place into her own tiny kingdom when she had been growing up. The new bureau was sleeker and took up far less space. She hated it on principle. Morgan followed her into the room and shrugged casually. “It was old.” That was the beauty of it, but she doubted if Morgan could understand. Sighing over the loss, Traci ran her fingertip along the dark wood. “It had a dent in it, right here.” She rested her finger on the uppermost corner closest to him. “Where you chipped your tooth.” He remembered the incident vividly. His manhood had been shaken that day. Thin and wiry, two years younger, Traci had easily gotten the best of him. He’d persuaded his parents to buy him his first set of weights that autumn.
