“On a scale of one to ten, how bad does it hurt?” I asked.

“Eight,” she said in a whisper.

I stepped on the gas and moved over into the fast lane.

The heater blew warm air across our legs, but Hannah wouldn’t stop shivering.

She yanked her hoodie strings until the collar bunched up under her chin.

I drove right past the turnoff for our subdivision and headed for the highway.

The smell of hospital sanitizer hit me the moment we came through the automatic doors of the St.

Jude clinic.