The message was from my father.
Dad: We need $12,000 for your mother’s surgery.
No hello.
No how are you.
No apology.
Just a number.
I stared at it until Ethan noticed my hand had gone still.
“What is it?” he asked.
I turned the screen toward him.
His face changed, but he did not grab the phone.
That was one of the reasons I loved him.
Ethan had never mistaken protecting me for controlling me.
He simply reached across the table and covered my wrist.
I did not cry.
I did not scream.
I did not type the paragraph they deserved.
My jaw locked so tight my molars hurt.
For Complete Cooking STEPS Please Head On Over To Next Page Or Open button (>) and don’t forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends.
