–Laura–
A week of mourning.
Seven days of watching people we hardly knew come and go, offering condolences for a sister they only admired from a distance. We almost forgot about Logan—he was still confined in the hospital. I visited him once. He talked about the ambush, about how he tried, how he failed. He apologized until his voice cracked, but I knew none of it was his fault. None of us saw this coming.
"Jane," I called softly.
She was clutching Sky a little too tightly, like he was the last piece of Livana we had left. Damon… he hadn't touched his son since the day we lost her. It was as if Sky didn't exist to him. As if we didn't exist.
"He hasn't drank any milk?" I asked.
Jane shook her head, worry etched in her eyes.
