Thatcher tries to lift me into his truck and I swat away his arm. "I can get in the damn truck by myself," I growl at him. But it's hard to climb up into the cab with my muscles aching. I'm exhausted, and realizing I need his help after all just pisses me off worse. My body feels like I got hit by this truck rather than lifted into it. "This is why I don't tell anyone," I say, resting my head against the glass. "Now you think of me as some victim."

I expect Thatcher to come back ...