Chapter Twenty-Eight

Savannah

Two Weeks Later

I’m scrubbing the same spot on the counter when I realize my hands are shaking.

Not a lot. Just enough that the sponge slips once, suds sliding toward the edge before I catch them. I press my palm flat against the laminate and breathe until the tremor eases, until I can pretend this is about dishes and not the way my chest feels too tight for a normal Tuesday evening.

The