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night about Dad, about always feeling like second place to a uniform.”
I nodded. “I can understand that,” I said. “But I’m not volunteering to be her punching bag.”
“No,” he said quickly. “You shouldn’t.”
That mattered, too. Not forgiveness. Not yet. But a door cracked open.
When it was time to leave, Ben walked me to my rental car. The air smelled like continue reading …
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