Dare to Dream. Donna Hill
He braced his forearms on his hard thighs and leaned slightly forward.
“How have you been, Desi?” he asked with genuine concern. “I mean, really.” His eyes probed hers.
“Getting better,” she said on a whispered breath. She looked away.
“What do you mean…getting better?”
Desiree inhaled deeply and straightened her shoulders, then slowly told him what had happened, at least parts of it. She left out the part about her losing everything, that she was still afraid to go to sleep, that she couldn’t paint, that all she had left in the world was a meager savings account and her car and that she owed Carl Hampton thousands of dollars.
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