CHAPTER 18
“How many times have you read those by now?” Willow asked Kennedy a few days later when they were catching up on a video chat.
“I don’t know,” Kennedy answered.
Willow ran her fingers through her fire-red hair, which she’d gotten done while visiting Kennedy in Boston that fall. “Seriously. You can tell me. I won’t judge.”
“I don’t know,” she had to repeat.
Willow huffed. “Fine. Then take a guess.”
Kennedy shrugged. “Twenty?”
“Dude.” Willow turned around to talk to someone off-screen. Kennedy wasn’t sure if she was talking to one of her foster kids or her husband.
“Okay,” Willow resumed, “so what can you tell me? I mean, I know it’s all hush hush and all that stuff, and I don’t want you to betray confidentiality or anything, but you know me. I’m the last person to go blab
