is in there?”
I pulled out a photocopied form.
At first, the words blurred together.
Medical release.
Placement.
Best interest.
Extended care.
At the bottom was my signature.
Thin.
Uneven.
Barely recognizable as mine.
Next to it was Watson’s.
“I don’t remember signing this,” I whispered.
Watson took the document from me.
His hands began trembling.
“I remember a clipboard.”
I turned toward him. “What?”
“At the hospital, sweetheart. Your mother handed it to me. She said you had already signed. She said they needed mine so Rowan wouldn’t suffer.”
