I held one arm.
On the other side, she hesitated, then held Mike’s.
Outside the doors, she turned to him.
“You ruined my life,” she said.
He flinched. “I know.”
“And you helped keep me from giving up on it,” she said. “Both can be true.”
She still has bad days.
He started crying again.
“I don’t deserve that,” he said.
“Probably not,” she said. “But I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for me.”
Now Hannah’s back at the bookstore part-time.
She’s starting community college next semester.
She still limps. She still has bad days.
We don’t do speeches.
Mike is still sober.
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