Wren
The walk to the garden feels longer than it should. I trail behind Ezra and his mom—who hasn’t said anything to me except for my name.
I don’t know what to expect but hey, at least I wasn’t asked to leave. Not yet.
“Alright guys,” the nurse says. “I’ll leave you to it. Let me know when you need me.” And she walks away.
Other people scatter around in the garden, some with visitors, others with just their nurses enjoying the serenity of nature.
“Sit, Wren.” Andrea pats the bench beside her.
My throat closes and I look at Ezra. He just gives a subtle nod, and I perch on the seat.
“Hi,” I say softly, heart beating wildly in my chest.
Does she hate me for what my dad did to her? If she does, is it okay to sit beside her?
A bucket load of thoughts race around in my mind, but I for
