❝ –– perhaps it’s true that things can change in a day. and when they do, those few dozen hours, like the salvaged remains of a burned house—the charred clock, the singed photograph, the scorched furniture—must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. and suddenly, they become the bleached bones of a story.
Callie looked skeptical. “Your hands are shaking a mile a minute —- do you really think you’re going to be able to sign charts?” The Latina shook her head, grasping the blond’s hands, pulling them away from the pot, “Come on, you’re coming home with me.”
Only then, so s a f e in Callie’s grasp, could Teddy feel how hard she was shaking. This
last shift had bee n a rough one — and if
she were being honest with herself, she was s c a r e d: scared to sleep, for fear that she might dream. The nights were always the hardest
without him.
Biting her lip in shame, Teddy raised her wide
green eyes to Callie’s. “Thanks, but no thanks.
I should really stay, at least until I finish these.”