PART 3 The courthouse smelled like wet coats, old paper, and coffee that had been burned for too many hours.

Bryce had loved being near what Savannah represented.

Had he ever loved Savannah herself?

The question hurt too much to answer.

Rachel closed the notebook.

“Your father didn’t want to control your life. He wanted to leave you a way out if love ever became a trap.”

Savannah looked toward the sunroom, where the babies were sleeping.

“He left it for them too.continue reading …