Chapter 7

She sat at my kitchen table with her blood draw kit unopened between us, and she cried before I said a single word. "I'm sorry," Tessa said. "I'm sorry, I'm — I shouldn't be here, I told him I couldn't do this anymore—" "Sit down." I pushed a glass of water across the table. Bottled. Sealed. I watched her break the cap myself. "Take a breath." She was twenty-nine. Up close she had chapped hands and a rubber band on her wrist and the exhausted eyes of someone working twelve-hour shifts...