“Let’s meet,” she interrupted. “I’ll text you the address. Can you come now?”
“Lily…”
“Please. Just trust me.”
The line went dead.
“What did I do wrong?”
The address came through a moment later.
I didn’t recognize it. It wasn’t a house. Not her biological mother’s last known address. Not a friend’s place or a lawyer’s office.
Just coordinates to somewhere two towns over.
I drove there in a fog, rehearsing apologies for things I didn’t understand. My stomach twisted the entire way.
The address came through a moment later.
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