“Always act as if you knew it was coming the whole time. Pretend it was part of the plan. You move with the storm, Emory. Calm, quiet, patient, and then . . . Then you happen to him.” My chest rose and fell in steady breaths as I whispered, “I happen to him.” “He may hit you again,” he breathed out, “but he will never hurt you. You will smile, and then . . .” “I will happen to him,” I whispered.
