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Protect her.
Don’t Ask a Question You Don’t Want the Answer To
“My father left it in my locker,” she says.
Bailey, I can’t help this make sense. I’m so sorry. You know what matters about me. And you know what matters about yourself. Please hold on to it. Help Hannah. Do what she tells you. She loves you. We both do. You are my whole life, Dad
My first thought is: Owen. Please be Owen.
“It’s all my fault,” she says.
“That’s the kind of money that someone leaves you when they’re not coming back.”
After all, what your mother did… it gave me you.
“Well,” she says as she closes the bathroom door behind herself, “at least you know.”
“Wait. With which part?” I say. He lowers his window. “With which part, what?” “Can you help?” “The easy part,” he says. “Getting through this.” “What’s the hard part?” “Owen’s not who you think he is,” he says. Then Grady Bradford is gone.
Maybe we are all fools, one way or another, when it comes to seeing the totality of the people who love us—the people we try to love.
He never understood that I wasn’t scared of someone leaving me. I was scared that the wrong person would stay.
This is the terrible thing about a tragedy. It isn’t with you every minute. You forget it, and then you remember it again. And you see it with a stark quality: This is what is required of you now, just to get along.
“Einstein said, So far as the theories of mathematics are about reality, they are not certain; so far as they are certain, they are not about reality.”
It’s never about someone else the moment you realize it is up to you to get yourself to a better place. It’s only about figuring out how to get there.

