“You come here every day?” she asked.
“As much as I can,” he said. “If you don’t want that, I’ll stop.”
She stared at him for a long time.
“I don’t forgive you,” she said.
He nodded. “I understand.”
“But I don’t want you to disappear either,” she added.
“I don’t know what that means yet. But… don’t just vanish.”
He let out a breath like he’d been underwater.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll be here.
On your terms.”
Recovery sucked.
Physical therapy. Pain. Nightmares.
Days where she’d say, “I hate my stupid legs,” and refuse to try.
Mike never pushed.
He just showed up.
Sat in the corner. Read. Talked when she wanted.
Continue reading…
