Leah
Inside, the rehab center smelled like lemon cleaner and chicken soup. Edward had a private room, of course. Ruth might have lost control of the narrative, but the Lockhart insurance plan still knew how to make an entrance.
Daniel was outside the room when we arrived.
He looked tired, but less wrecked than he had at the park.
When he saw Bella, his face softened.
“Hey, trouble.”
Bella stopped.
“I’m medium trouble.”
“My mistake.”
She handed him the paper bag. “Hold these. They are art.”
Daniel took it like she had handed him museum pieces.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Bella looked at me. “Everybody says that now.”
“You have that effect.”
Daniel’s eyes moved to me.
“Ruth is not here,” he said quietly.
“Okay.”
“She wanted to be.”
“I assumed.”
“I told her Dad said no.”
“And?”
“And th
