“No, I’ll tell them. They should hear it from their father. God, I hope the media hasn’t broadcasted her name yet. Hurry,” Todd said, an urgency to his tone.
Trying to confirm where Addie’s daughter was, the nurse picked up the chart from the end of the bed. Again, hope battered for a little light.
“When Nate watches you, I see something else in his eyes. Something that looks like hope.”
Uncle Pete frowned, his brows like bats wings over his eyes. “You better hope the hell not, kid. Your brother doesn’t like when you screw up.”
That’s what she’d intended to sleep in. She didn’t realize—although she had hoped—she’d be stripping them off before she closed her eyes to sleep tonight.
I loved the feisty artist and hoped her bold prints would inspire my boomer clients to shake up their lives.
“I hope you’re not sharing that with the government agencies.”