Morningside Cuesta you have problems but so do i

Day hmm'd in agreement, thinking about how blindsided he'd been during that argument in the den. He wasn't sure how much he wanted her to know him, if she'd been able to hurt him that badly with what little fuel she had. He'd been holding back since then, afraid to try and connect despite the common blood they shared with their children.

"I don't have a favorite food or color," he revealed with a noncommital roll of his shoulders. "I do like hunting birds, but just because of all the feathers."

These things seemed inconsequential to Grayday. He didn't need her to know what he liked to eat, or the things he liked to look at. There wasn't much for him to see nowadays, anyway. What concerned him was the inherent meanness he'd sensed from her lately, and how she didn't seem to know how (or want) to argue without attempting to hurt the other person.

"I don't know what I do for fun," he went on, ears flickering in thought. "Life is fun. Playing and hunting, sleeping in the afternoon. Watching the kids. I'm not picky, I guess."