He could have taken charge.
Ordered people around.
Declared himself my protector.
Instead, he was letting me make choices.
Something Brandon had never done.
Jasmine arrived forty minutes later.
The moment she stepped into the office, she ran toward me.
We held each other so tightly that I could barely breathe.
“Oh, Hannah,” she whispered. “I’ve missed you.”
I cried against her shoulder.
“I thought you hated me.”
She pulled back.
“What?”
“Brandon said—”
Jasmine’s face hardened.
“Brandon told you that?”
I nodded.
Her eyes filled again.
“I’ve been calling you for months. Every time, the calls went straight to voicemail.”
I stared.
“He said you stopped trying.”
Jasmine shook her head.
“I never stopped.”
I looked down at my phone.
How many calls had Brandon blocked?
How many messages had he deleted?
How much of my world had he quietly taken apart?
Jasmine wrapped an arm around me.
“Come home with me.”
