I flinched.
He did not move away.
That was exactly who Leo was throughout those weeks.
He remained beside me through dressing changes, sleepless nightmares, police interviews, and the days when I refused to step outside our bedroom.
The investigation into the hit-and-run barely progressed.
The traffic camera at the intersection had failed.
One witness remembered seeing a black SUV but could not identify the license plate.
The police had almost nothing to go on.
Leo’s mother, Vivian, visited me only once.
Standing at the foot of my hospital bed in pearls and a cream-colored coat, she examined my face as though inspecting damaged furniture.
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