Ruth looked at him over Emma’s head.
There was no softness in her eyes.
“I tried to tell you,” she said.
Harrison swallowed.
“I know.”
“No,” Ruth said quietly, “you don’t.”
And he realized she was right.
He didn’t know yet.
Not even close.
The Things He Missed
That night, after Emma finally fell asleep under the soft beep of monitors and a pink fleece blanket someone from pediatrics found for her, Harrison sat with Ruth and Detective Ruiz in a consultation room.
On the table between them lay a legal pad, three paper cups of coffee, and the remains of Harrison’s faith in himself.
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