« That’s June, » Mrs. Hunter said quietly. « Patricia made sure we’d know how to tell them apart. Said the smallest one would always be June. »
« June, » I repeated, saying the name as if I were testing whether my mouth still worked.
Baby June kept holding on. She didn’t know I had no money, had never changed a diaper, or that her father had abandoned them. She just knew someone was there.
« I’ll call social services in the morning, » my neighbor said gently. « There are good families, Noah. Ready people. »
Baby June kept holding on.
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