you and it kept coming out wrong.
He reached out with his scarred hand and he put it on top of mine. His hand was warm and it was rough and it was the same hand that had carried my daughter out of hell.
“Ma’am,” he said. “You don’t owe me a thank you.”
“I owe you everything,” I said.
He shook his head. “You don’t owe me a thing. I owe you.”
I didn’t understand continue reading …
