(Sean's POV)
Early next morning, Hannah arrives with flowers.
White lilies, wrapped in brown paper, the kind of arrangement that says I put thought into this without saying anything specific. She's wearing the soft cream cardigan she wears when she wants to look like she's been up all night worrying. Her hair is down. Her eyes find my sling before they find my face.
"Sean." She steps through the door before I've fully opened it. "I've been worried sick. I called the house four times yesterday and Nancy kept saying you were resting, and then I heard you checked yourself out early and I thought — why would you do that? Why wouldn't you let them keep you overnight?"
I don't answer. I step back to let her in.
She keeps talking as she walks — the flowers held against her chest, her voice p
