But he didn’t look mean.
Just wrecked.
“Yeah?” he said.
“I’m Hannah’s mom,” I said.
He nodded once. “I know. You’re Sarah.”
That threw me.
“Jenna told me,” he said.
“She also told me not to bother you unless you wanted to talk.”
“Well, I’m talking now,” I said. My voice was shaking. “I’ve seen you here every day.
For months. You hold my daughter’s hand. You talk to her.
I need to know who you are and why you’re in her room.”
He glanced toward 223, then back at me.
“Can we sit?” he asked, nodding toward the waiting area.
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