I got home and stepped into a hot shower. Scalding water poured down over my face, and I couldn't tell the warm streams apart from the tears spilling down my cheeks.
A soft buzz cut through the hum of the water. I grabbed my phone, and a message from Stefan glowed on the screen:
Stefan: Dylan's condition is stable.
I stared at those words for a long, long time before typing back.
Olivia: Thank you for all your trouble.
Minutes ticked by, and another message popped up:
Stefan: Olivia, Jillian and her son have had it so hard. Try to be more understanding, okay?
I laughed out loud, bitter and sharp.
Understanding.
In my past life, all that understanding got my son killed.
Not this time around. I would never be understanding ever again.
Early the next morning, I made a pot of chick
