The Call That Undid Us
Poppy froze, shot me a glance, then scrambled, "I-I mean, I was just rambling. Don't take it the wrong way."
I didn't answer. My eyes were already locked on Nina.
And then my stomach dropped.
Sasha—my six-year-old—had somehow wandered into the fight.
Tiny fists up, she yelled, "I'll beat you up! Stop bullying Mr. Chapman!"
The woman snapped, grabbed a bottle, and raised it.
"No!"
I didn't think—I just moved. Dove forward, yanked Sasha into my arms—
The bottle smashed against my back.
Glass everywhere.
Warm blood soaked through my shirt in seconds. Every twitch sent pain knifing down my spine.
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