He didn’t try to argue.
He just looked like a man waiting for a sentence.
“The first time I came here,” he said, “was the day after the crash. I needed to see if she was real. Not just a name in the report.”
He nodded toward the ICU side.
“Dr.
Patel wouldn’t let me in,” he said. “Said it wasn’t appropriate. So I sat in the lobby.
Then I came back the next day. And the next.”
He gave a tired half-smile.
“Finally, Jenna told me you were at a meeting with the social worker,” he said. “She said I could sit with Hannah for a bit.
She warned me you probably wouldn’t want me there if you knew who I was.”
“She was right,” I snapped.
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