“They don’t want you in her life, Kenna.” A cry mixes with a gasp that sounds like it’s filled with years of heartache when she says, “She’s my daughter.” Her voice decides to reconnect with her spirit in this moment. It’s no longer a wisp of air escaping her mouth. It’s full of panic and desperation. I grip my steering wheel, tapping it with my thumb while I think of how to say what I need for her to understand. “Diem is their daughter. Your rights were terminated. Get out of my truck, and then do us all a favor and go back to Denver.”
