“Are you okay?” Michael asked Sloane. She was standing beside me, very still, her breathing shallow and her skin pale. Thinking about Aaron. Thinking about what just happened to Michael. Thinking about your father. Thinking about his. Sloane took three tiny, hesitant steps, then threw herself at Michael, latching her arms around his neck so tightly that I wasn’t sure she would ever let go. My phone rang. Once I saw Michael’s arms curve around Sloane, I answered it.
