CHAPTER TWENTY
Today’s book was another one that he personally loved. He’d read it to himself at least a dozen times and although it was technically a children’s book, it had a certain charm to it that resonated with anyone—especially someone dealing with health scares or some sort of physical disability.
He read from Tuck Everlasting as if he were a pastor reading Scripture. He felt each word on his tongue and expressed it with care. He could not escape the weight the story carried in his life. It was what his mother had read to him after that terrible day—the day he had lain on the linoleum kitchen floor, sure that he would die and thinking the pain would never end.
She’d done everything she could to compensate for it—for about a year or so anyway. After that, the b***h had just given
