I stepped closer.
“The doctor called. Hope has a chance at a healthy, active life. She may need surgery and therapy, but she is still your daughter. Yet the moment you heard there might be complications, you walked away.”
“That wasn’t why.”
I stopped.
“Then tell me why.”
Ryan sat on one of the stools beside my counter.
His shoulders folded inward.
Suddenly he didn’t look like the brother who had always protected me.
He looked frightened.
Ashamed.
Almost small.
Then he whispered, “I lost my job.”
For a moment, I thought I had misheard him again.
“What?”
“Four months ago.”
I stared at him.
“Four months?”
He nodded.
“Right after the second-trimester scan.”
My anger gave way to confusion.
“Melissa knows?”
His silence answered me.
“Oh my God, Ryan.”
“Every morning, I get dressed for work like normal. I leave the house. Then I sit in a coffee shop and apply for jobs until it’s time to go home.”
