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A few nights later, after Ryan left, Ava stood quietly in my bedroom doorway, twisting the sleeve of her hoodie while I folded laundry. I immediately became uneasy.
“Mom,” she said softly, “please don’t let him move in.”
I stopped folding towels and sighed.
“Ava, you barely know him.”
“I know enough.”
The way she said it made me wary.
“What does that mean?continue reading …ADVERTISEMENT
