out.
The next morning, Ryan knocked softly. I opened the door. He was holding coffee in a bag from a bakery. I didn’t know what you liked, he said. So I got a few things. Muffins, bagels, croissant. When was the last time someone asked what I liked? We sat in his room. Chuck was there, too. They had a folder, thick, labeled Megan Rose Caldwell, case continue reading …
