slightly in front of me.
Dad noticed and stopped at a respectful distance.
That was new too.
“Rebecca,” he said.
My mother reached for me. “Honey—”
I stepped back.
Her hand froze midair.
For a second, pain crossed her face. But I couldn’t carry it. Not while my own body was held together by braces, stitches, and the stubborn refusal to collapse in front of continue reading …
