A squeeze.
“Mike,” I said sharply. “Stop.”
We both stared at her hand.
There was a pause.
Then another squeeze.
I hit the call button so hard my thumb hurt.
“Jenna!” I yelled. “Dr.
Patel! Now!”
The room filled with people.
Hannah’s eyelids fluttered.
She whispered, “Mom?”
I broke.
“I’m here,” I said. “I’m right here.”
In the corner, Mike pressed his fist over his mouth and sobbed.
Hannah’s eyes moved toward him.
“You read… dragons,” she said.
“And you always say… you’re sorry.”
She didn’t know yet what he’d done.
She only knew his voice.
Later, when she was stronger, we told her everything.
Me, her dad Jason, her therapist Dr. Alvarez, and Mike.
Hannah listened quietly. Then she turned to Mike.
“Yes,” he said.
“I was.”
“You hit my car,” she said.
“I did,” he said.
Continue reading…
