I gave George a rundown of what had happened while we sat in the living room by the fireplace. He made me a cup of coffee while I changed into dryer clothes.
"Anna I'm so sorry," He took my hand and his eyes were filled with sympathy.
"I just don't get it," I looked at the rug focusing on my thoughts.
"What?"
"That my dad can just say that," I still looked away, when George gave my hand a gentle squeeze.
"Parents say things when they're angry," his voice was filled with reassurance.
"Or they're just jerks," I took a sip of coffee as I pulled the Afghan that he threw over me earlier tighter. "Look. I know that your parents are jerks and all, but you can stay here for a day, tops. You have to go back home," "I know" I sighed.
"You can sleep in the guest bedroom," gestured wit
