“What are you, Casey?” Ryder asks over his shoulder as he scrubs his hands with antibacterial soap.
“Your little cancer warrior,” she answers with a small smile.
“That’s right.” He dries his hands and turns, a proud grin cracking his mouth. “The bravest one ever.”
I grab Casey’s hand and hold it tight, knowing nothing I’ve ever seen, heard, or felt compares to what she’s facing. This child’s living with a fear I can’t comprehend. One that’d slay …