I took a deep breath. Let it out. My gut made the decision to trust her. My heart was talking before my brain could catch up. There was just something fierce about Rachel, something strong. I trusted her to help me.
“My son. His name is Wyatt and he’s three.”
Her dark eyes widened. “You have a son?”
I choked on a sob and took a deep breath, trying to suck in strength like air. “A little over three months ago, we were in a car accident. I came out with just cuts and bruises, but even in his car seat, Wyatt was hurt. His leg. It was broken, cut, destroyed. They patched him up, did a couple surgeries, but couldn’t fix him. The growth plate was damaged and is fusing early. His leg is going to stop growing. They want to do surgery to try to help, but it’s not good.”
fix Rachel remained quie
