CHAPTER ELEVEN
A Fall from GraceMac’s soft palms against her cheeks brought Hana to her senses. Her son stroked her face and pulled her gaze to meet his. He was hungry and thought she didn’t understand. Hana swallowed and nodded, but when she opened her mouth, no sound emerged.
“Hana?” Logan’s strong fingers squeezed her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
She shook her head and released a sigh. “I keep hearing him land on the gravel. It feels like it’s getting louder in my head.”
Sanders met her gaze with a wince. He’d sat back in his seat and gulped hot coffee from his mug like Lawrence of Arabia in the desert. “You witnessed a traumatic event,” he said. His lips pursed as he dealt with the burn. “We can organise counselling.”
“Maybe.” Hana gave herself a shake and wondered where she’d begin
