The only person in that family who had ever seen me clearly was Hannah, Daniel’s youngest cousin.
She’d sat at the kids’ table for years past the age she should have left it. I’d been the only adult who slid her a real glass of wine at Thanksgiving.
Brooke treated her like furniture, which meant Hannah heard everything and was looped into every cousins’ chat as a formality no one bothered to police.
I started noticing things I’d ignored for years.
Hannah also worked the front desk at the small accounting firm half the family used.
Over the years, she’d quietly become my unexpected ally. We weren’t close enough to call each other every week, but every few months she’d text out of nowhere. I’d never asked why. I didn’t have to.
Hannah called me on a Wednesday afternoon.
“I know about Brooke,” she said without so much as a hello.
“Oh God, Hannah.”
“I don’t know what you know yet, but you’ve been asking questions. Looking through records. You’re not pretending everything’s fine anymore.”
“I know about Brooke.”
My grip tightened around the phone. “How do you know that?”
“Because I notice people that no one else notices. You noticed me when I was sixteen. You were the only adult who ever talked to me like I mattered.” Hannah paused. “I think it’s my turn.”
