stared at the wall.
“They were told to sit in a truck.”
“They weren’t kicked out.”
“They were.”
“They could have stayed in the car.”
“It was thirty degrees.”
“The truck has heat.”
I felt something inside me go completely still.
“Brooke.”
“What?”
“You’re missing the point.”
“No, you’re being dramatic.”
“The point isn’t the furnace.”
“Then what is it?”
“The point is that you felt entitled to decide my children were less important than yours.”
She scoffed.
“My kids are sensitive.”
“So are mine.”
“They didn’t want them around.”
