The old fear stirred again.
My mother’s warning. My father’s anger. Whitney’s voice, suddenly unsteady.
Bring it back.
“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” I said.
Maren’s gaze softened. “Seeking the truth is not the same as seeking harm.”
The sentence stayed with me long after she left.
Daniel returned that afternoon.
He knocked gently, then stepped in holding a glass vase. The tulips from the night before had been arranged inside it with water and a pale blue ribbon.
“I asked the gift shop for help,” he said. “Apparently I’m not trusted with floral design.”
Evelyn smiled. “A wise shop.”
Daniel looked tired. His engagement dinner clothes were gone, replaced by dark jeans and a sweater beneath his coat. There was no sign of Whitney.
“How are you feeling?” he asked me.
“Like I was hit by a truck.”
He blinked.
Then I smiled slightly, and his shoulders relaxed.
