“I don’t need to go to prom.”
Wren said it casually, but I knew that tone.
It was the same voice she used whenever she wanted to pretend she didn’t care about something she secretly wanted.
She had lost her father, Matt, when she was young. Since then, she had avoided anything that reminded her of what other girls had and she didn’t.
Father-daughter dances.
Family celebrations.
Milestones.
She always shrugged and said she didn’t care.
But one night, I found her in the garage standing in front of her father’s old police uniform.
Her fingers hovered over the garment bag.
